


Harmattan Wind

by JoCarthage



Series: Kintsugi Series [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Cooking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cupid and Psyche themes, Dreamsharing, F/M, Fluff, Healing, Hot Springs & Onsen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Justice, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Post-Prison, Reading Aloud, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Slowest Burn, Trials, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 138,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoCarthage/pseuds/JoCarthage
Summary: “What role did Ben Solo play in the First Order?” The older man’s voice rang out across the warehouse courtroom, its rough-cut shipping-crate benches groaning under the weight of resistance members gathered to watch.Ben Solo was in chains, the Jedi Rey beside him, and his mother sitting in the audience. His attorney paused in his patrol of the dusty workroom floor, allowing the silence to gather in the withered afternoon light: “And has he been punished enough?”This is the story after Rey rescues Ben from prison; it’s a story of healing and justice; kindness and cruelty; love that waits and love that grows; and, of course, Tales as Old as Time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This starts off right where Undertow left off: on the Falcon, breaking to black, Ben still needing healing, and nobody quite sure what the future holds; but it has to be better than the past. They're going to make sure of that.
> 
> TW: All of the above and I don't think this counts as body horror, but Ben's been hurt fairly badly and Rey heals him, so there's descriptions of healing that might be a bit much for some readers.
> 
> I am so excited to be sharing the next arc in this story. I hope folks who enjoyed Undertow like this piece as well! There are a lot of things I set-up in arc 1 that will really pay off in arc 2, so keep on reading/commenting/sharing!
> 
> A note on the title: The Harmattan wind happens during the hot, winter months in equatorial deserts; it's sometimes called a healing wind by the people who live through it.

Poe was hollering at them to get their butts into the Falcon so they could get out of _all of this weather_ so Rey and Ben clambered up the ramp and strapped into the jump seats as Poe got them to black, Chewie and Finn across from them.

The engines scream overwhelmed any chance they had to talk, so Rey stretched her hand over to lace her fingers around Ben’s wrist, pressing into his mind: _Thank you_. 

He glanced at her, quirking a smile before replying, _To quote you, ‘none of that.’_ And Rey’s laugh was the first, startlingly loud sound everyone heard when the engine’s roar suddenly dropped to nothing in the vacuum of space. Finn’s eyes were wide as he took in her hand on Ben’s wrist, Ben’s slowly dimming smile, and he said:

“Is that how it’s going to be, you two with your inside jokes, us mundanes out in the cold?”

“No,” Rey said as Ben was saying, “Yes.”

Rey glared at him and he relented. “I’ll keep the Force chatter to a minimum,” he said. If anything, Finn looked even more alarmed by this softening. Rey unstrapped herself and stood, redirecting the conversation.

“Chewie, could you get Ben a change of clothes? Finn, can you bring the water and rations?” Chewie waved to her and Finn nodded, eyes again roving Ben’s battered body.

Ben was shaking his head, roughened voice catching — “I’ll just rest; let me know where I can crash.”

And Rey’s huffed in irritation, pulling him by the wrist towards the med bay. Ben followed, eyes taking-in everything around him, the dingy corridors, the crackle in the engine, the blaster scars along the walls. Then his eyes widened and he stopped rock-still in the hallway.

“Were you, on Crait, were you here?” He asked, voice tense and flat. Rey nodded jerkily, trying to pull him towards the med bay. Swimming down to pull her from the undertow had re-opened the cuts on his back and she wanted to get him cleaned-up before the adrenaline drained from them both. But Ben wasn't moving, shoulders square, eyes serious:

“Rey, were you on the Falcon when I gave the order to have you shot down? Oh Force, Rey, how could you ever --” 

Rey sucked air in between her teeth, finally turning to him, eyes steady. Ben sagged backwards, losing his words, shoulders smacking into the curved corridor wall, hand coming-up to cover his eyes before roughly scrubbing down his face, eyes haunted. Rey leaned in, voice low and stern, raising both hands on his shoulders, her touch much lighter than her words:  
  
"Knock. It. Off. You want to have a crisis? Do it after I've patched you up. Like 77.2% of what you're feeling is pain and that won't help this conversation.” Rey stepped closer, sliding her fingers between his, until his shoulders relaxed, his scowl easing and his eyes returning to hers.

"There's going to be a conversation." He declared, mutinously.

"Probably," Rey said and then  _pressed_ through their bond, sliding him something to think about. It wasn't really words, wasn't precisely and image. It was the feeling she'd had the first time she slept in a bed, on the resistance base; it was the sound of a perfect engine humming after a long-overdue tune-up; it was the taste of cool, crisp water after a day scavenging; it was the way her stomach flipped when he smiled at her. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned forward, bracing his forehead on her shoulder.

"Alright." He murmured and she resumed her walk down the hallway.

"How are you still walking?" She asked as they entered the surprisingly-sterile med bay. He shook his head:  


"I've had contact with the Force for my entire life. This is not the first time I've used it to escape after being beaten to a pulp."

Rey shivered and gestured him to sit on the exam table. He did, dripping seawater everywhere. Rey turned to the supply closet, pulling-out every spare blanket and towel, narrating:

"I'd tell you to warm-up in the 'fresher first, but until we get those cuts handled, you're just going to need to wash again. Are you ok if I heal you first?"

He nodded and she passed him a towel to start getting some of the worst of the wet out as she did the same. He was patting his hair dry, voice muffled by the towel when he said in his cracked voice:

"I don't have anything to change into anyway; it's not like Poe Dameron and I can share shirts."

“We found a chest of your old things. They would have been too small for you, before, but,” and she paused, looking at the thinner lines of his chest, the prominent clavicle, the way his cheeks were hollowed. Her voice was quieter when she finished: “I think they’ll fit you just fine.”

He set the towel down, hair halo-ing out around his fair face before he leaned on one hand, giving her a look that would have made Han smirk:

"Is that where you got my shirt?" And she flushed, muttering:

"I don't own anything black and we needed to be stealthy." He reached out to pluck at the collar, shoulders shifting in the rags he was wearing, his fingernails scraping on the rich, black-on-black embroidery on her collar.

"I think I wore this to Lucinia beBernster's 16th birthday party," he said musingly and she shook her head. These people, owning multiple sets of clothes. She would never understand it.

Then she sobered and hopped up on the bed beside him. Her feet dangled high above the deck, while his toes gently grazed it. She bumped her shoulder against his and asked:  
  
“Where are you most injured?”

He closed his eyes, thinking, and said, jaw clenching. His voice was hoarse but his tone even, detached when he spoke this time:

“I think I have some internal bleeding in my lower abdomen that could become a problem, probably a concussion from that last-ditch beating this morning; the malnutrition is something that will take more than Force-healing to manage; none of the cuts were tended or blades treated, so I would appreciate quite a lot of disinfectant and some anti-septics.” He paused, throat working for a moment before saying, “And there’s quite a bit of damage up here,” he said, tapping on the side of his head, with a self-mocking smile “Probably not the kind the Force can heal, at least unless there have been major advances. For example,” he said, glancing nervously at the open med bay door. “I find myself checking every few seconds to make sure that door hasn't shut and blocked my exit.”

Rey nodded, then stood, taking a hold of the visitor's chair and jamming it under the locking function of the door. 

"Alright?" Rey asked. Ben nodded, expression a little stunned. She wondered how long it had been since someone took his needs seriously. She didn’t know if she wanted to know.

Rey moved until she was about arms-distance away from Ben and held out her hand and Ben took it, without hesitation.

"Are you ready?" She asked, and he nodded again.

“This is going to hurt,” she cautioned and he gripped her hand, pulling her closer to him until she was standing between his spread knees. He ran his other hand down her shoulder to her hand and slipped his fingers between hers. Then he took a deep breath and nodded. She echoed his breath and connected instantly with the Force; it was like it had been waiting for her.

The damage was; extensive. If she thought about the story it told, she wouldn’t be able to focus, to finish healing him, so she closed her eyes and divided him into parts. Top-down, outside-in. She had enough time to heal the surface pain first before getting to the worst of it. She could take her time, be thorough and have her work last to the morning. Plan in mind, she raised their interlocked fingers and pressed the backs of her hands gently to the side of his face, stitching the split skin over his cheekbone and easing the swelling, knuckles dragging lightly over the bone bruises until she knew it was pale, milky white again and she tapped his cheek, startling a smile out of him. His eyes had been down, focused on his knees, but now he raised them, locking them with hers.

The air they shared between them grew hot, tight with shared energy, because she realized it was not just her connection with the Force that as flowing through her, but both of theirs, his thin connection to the light trickling in to join the river of her power.

She pressed their shared hands together against his cheek, diving deeper, finding the bruised parts of his brain from the head blows he’d survived, and healed them through-and-through. There was scar tissue there, something thick and knotted, rough in her mind’s eye; but it was old, and he gestured her away from it. She went, willingly, setting that aside for another time. She slipped her fingers free of his to reach behind his neck, and he let her, keeping contact by sliding his hand up the back of her arm, calloused fingers tickling on the thin skin there. She traced the bones in his neck with her fingertips, softening the stiff muscles and healing the underlying damage, caused by whiplash and being knocked around when he couldn’t brace his falls. She moved her hand down his back and looked a question at him — _skin or bones_?

He shrugged, and she let her connection to the Force widen, rippling and trickling across the mass of cuts across his back, as she'd once done in their cave. She reached around him to hover her hand over them, seeing in her minds' eye that they were ragged, feeling the heat of infection. She unlaced the infection from his skin, slipping it out of his blood as he grunted, surprised at the intrusion, before sighing and allowing his head to fall onto her shoulder, thick hair soft around her ear, back an easy shape it could not have been moments before.

She dove further down, to the muscles that protected his spine, strained and nicked though they were. People always underestimated backs, how much pain a little slip or a tiny strain could cause; but Rey knew that we use our backs for everything, absolutely everything, and without healing this, pain would be an ever-present and corrosive force in his life. She slipped the muscles back into their places, asking them to relax — he moved experimentally and then gasped as one of his stomach muscles sang-out its pain. She traced her fingers down the edge of his spine, checking for more serious damage, and found it there again: tight around his nerves, bundles and bunches of scar tissue, a decade or more old. She shook her head and moved away without him needing to tell her to, sliding her palm around to press onto the cool skin of his belly, bared through his tattered formerly-grey prison shirt.

There were scars here, old ones, from combat, from training, but they weren’t the cause of the pain — there were bruises enough for that. And now she could see them, going into his skin, bootprint after bootprint across his stomach, and she couldn't keep her distance, couldn't stop herself from telling the story, his pinging ribs and a half-dozen bruised internal organs, the faded handprints on his hips where fingers had _dug in_. She gasped, tears pulling themselves free from her, quiet sobs surprising her as much as him. His hand shifted from her shoulder to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him, fingers running through her hair, soothing her as she poured healing light into his core, spreading it out, reshaping everything to what it had been, before he’d ever been dragged down to Nauticus. She settled once the last bruise to his core was healed and sighed at herself, rolling her head against his shoulder, saying:  
  
“I’m sorry."

He clucked in disapproval: “It’s likely to be my turn soon enough." He settled his hands softly on her bowed neck, breathing steady beneath her cheek, his shot-voice still rumbling smoothly from his chest; she raised her fingers, tracing his adam's apple and pressing in her healing, hearing his vocal folds heal as he spoke. "What happened to me, I dealt with it as it happened, or mostly did, but you’re getting all of it, all at once, one big mess, no chance for a break." His voice was nearly entirely healed, slow and comfortable, not cracking and hoarse any more. "Even worse for people like us, you're getting the blow-by-blow with no without the ability to fight back.” He pulled away from her, hands sliding down her arms to interlace with her fingers. Then her held-up their shared hands. He showed her a deep nick on the back of his hand. She moved to direct her healing towards it but he shook his head.   
  
“No, don’t, I want to keep that one.” And she looked at him questioningly before he grinned; it wasn't a kind look, but it looked right on his newly-healed lips. “I took out one of the guard’s teeth, must have been, three days ago. That’s the imprint it left.” He leaned down, gesturing to his knee where there was a rubbed-red area, like a really intense rug-burn: “One of the guards who did this to me will not be having children, not naturally at least.”

She was drawing in a breath to object, to ask him not to be flip, but he shook his head, stopping her: “I’m not saying it’s ok; I want to kill them all,” and Rey remembered what she’d made Sergeant Barda promise, “But I know what happened. I was there. It’s not new for me. It’ll be new for you, probably always will be, since you were never there;” He paused, reconsidering, “You were there, in the ways that mattered the most. You're the reason I slept well enough to stand-up and fight back, every time, no matter how many of them came in. You’re the reason I knew I just had to hang-on, just had to get through it.” He raised a warm palm to her face, cupping it and wiping a smudge of tears away. “You were my Rey of hope.”

She choked, laugh flying from her mouth, laughing and shaking and laughing until her stomach hurt. She hadn’t know she _could_ laugh in a situation like this, didn’t know she had laughter in her after seeing glimpses of what Ben had been through. But there he was smiling at her, telling horrible puns, his eyes light when they looked at her; she found she could. She buried her head in his shoulder and muttered:

“ _That_ was _terrible_.” He chuckled, low and deep in her ear, and something, something unexpected, moved inside her belly. She crushed it down, praying he was too focused on his own body to sense anything about hers.

She caught her breath, looking up at him and saying: “Ready to get back to it?” He nodded. She considered. “We're nearly done, then you should be able to use the ‘fresher in peace; take your time, but the food will be ready when you get out.”

He looked down at himself, at the rags he was still wearing, and adjusted his seat on the table only to wince. He took a deep breath, saying —

“When they,” and he couldn’t finish the thought, his inner defenses locking down with a clang. She waited, but he seemed to not be able to get past that thought, his face warping through emotions, too fast for her to catch, too varied for her to characterize; not a single one of them pleasant. His hands spasmed in hers, arms shaking until she squeezed his fingers, bringing his eyes back to hers.

She interrupted whatever was happening in his head, voice low and gentle: “I’ll take care of all off the internal damage, I have some idea of what to look for.” And he raised his face, eyes stark and aching before nodding. She stepped back a little, saying: “Do you want a minute, need some space? We can do this any way you need to.” 

And he shook his head, reaching for her, pulling her close to him until her arms were pressed between her chest and his, his warm arms around her. He laid his head down on her shoulder and she slipped her arms around him and he stuck his cold nose against her neck. But she stopped herself from squeaking when he said, his voice so, so small:

“I just want it over with.” 

And she nodded, getting to work, forehead against his, breath intermingling.  She started with bones in his legs, some bruised, some cracked. There were long-healed breaks, maybe a turned-ankle when he was small. They were strong bones; he hadn’t missed many meals growing up, and those he’d had had been good for him. She tried to think of him like that: a tousle-haired boy, eyes filled with the same fire of curiosity she still saw in the man today, climbing and jumping and learning about the world with two parents around him. She healed the strains in the muscles of his feet, caused by being forced to go barefoot after a lifetime in boots. There were lacerations, some in long lines, like the soles of his feet had been struck by something thin and sharp, like a branch or — she refocused on the image of the bright boy. She wondered if he'd worn big boots or thin-soled slippers when he played growing up too, as she stitched the muscles and skin of his feet back together. There was a part of her that wanted to put her hands around his foot, to feel if it was strong, press it back to check if she’d given him black his flexibility, kept the suppleness on the arch. She didn't; she didn't need to and she was trying to keep her hands to herself.

She slipped her mind up his shins, healing a nick here, a pulled muscle there.  She left the notch on his knee, reminding herself to use anti-septic and bandage it after he came back from the ‘fresher. 

She paused for a moment, letting her breathing guide his, slow, and deep, and even. She moved to the thick quads bracing his thigh bone. These, these were hurts she recognized. She bit her tongue, clenched her jaw, and tried to think of him in pieces, tried to think of that bright boy in her imagination, but the evidence was too strong, told a story she’d hoped never to hear again. Strains, pulls, muscles torn from being spread by force, being pulled together in desperation. She should say she had no idea how he’d walked out of there, but then, she knew that if she’d had to, she would have crawled away from the Stormtroopers’ compound if she had had anyone to crawl to, anyone to come in and get her.

Rey squeezed her eyes shut, bracing her forehead against his shoulder and tried again, to give herself some distance before finishing. Some piece of the Force must have taken mercy on her, because the last healing she had to do went quickly, smoothly, healing torn soft tissue, easing brutalized muscles, easing pain. She was grateful again for the light that made it possible for her to help, and for being saved from reliving her own pain.

She took a sharp breath in when she was done before rasping:

“Is there anywhere else you hurt?”

His breathing was even, steady, his chest pressing against hers with every breath. She felt him move, shift his hips, and sensed a small song of surprise thrill through him when it didn’t hurt. He rolled the shoulder under her forehead and she took that as a cue to lean away, and his arms were loose around her, giving her space, but there was a look in his eyes, like shame, like disappointment that made her raise her hand from his side. His eyes were looking everywhere but hers and she took a deep breath, passing into his mind: _I see someone strong in front of me, someone who survived something unsurvivable. I know some of that strength because I carry it in my own bones, my own sewn-back-together-guts. I know something of how hard you had to_ _fight_. 

Out loud she said: “Head for the fresher, then some water, some food, and some real, uninterrupted rest. That’s what I recommend.” He nodded, slipping off the bench, and she was moving away when he grabbed her, burying her in a hug that enveloped her entire body. Now he was moving without pain, he was so _fast;_ now he could stand comfortably, he was so _big._ A part of her shied away, wanted safety from this body so much larger than her own. But a bigger part knew the sound of the blood in his veins like old tune she could hum while working on an engine; the rhythm of his heart was the same hard, ticking beat under her cheek as it had been on the island. She ducked her head, letting her eyes drift shut as he held-on, held-on _tight_ , her arms first loose at her sides before slipping around his waist, tangling with each other in the sway of his lower back. She squeezed back with enough strength to make him change his breathing for a moment, and then she heard a chuckle.

“How’d you get so strong?” He asked, voice low over her ear. She shrugged, hearing her voice come out light and easy:

“You know, in those holo-plays, where the guy and the girl are fleeing the end of the world and he falls over a cliff and she can’t pull him back, and he dies?” She felt him shake his head.

“I didn’t get to watch a lot of holo-plays growing up.” He said, an edge of teasing in his voice.

“Or like in the holo-plays, where the girl and the guy are running and the guy gets hurt, and she can’t carry him back?" Rey drove on, questioning his newly-healed shoulder where she'd buried her face: "Or the one where the girl dies because she can’t do a single pull-up to literally save her life?” She huffed and he shivered at the feeling of her lips moving against his skin through one of the many holes in his shirt.   
  
“Well, I decided at about the age of 5 that I was never _never_ going to be one of those girls. So I started training, making sure I was strong enough to lift my heaviest friend.” She chuckled, wry good humor coming through: “Before I got good at eyeballing weight, I used to just run up to whoever was my best friend of the moment, because that was before I had to scavenge, for the year I was in an actual outpost _school_ , and I would run up to them and just,” and she squatted down, tightened her grip, and deadlifted Ben Solo a solid 10 centimeters off the ground. He wiggled a little in her grip before going perfectly still. She set him down gingerly and he wrapped his arms around her, laughing softly in her ear.

“That is — that’s not the kind of strength I meant. But that was excellent. And I dare you to try that on Chewbacca. I will give you 10 credits if you do that to Chewbacca and I will pay the resulting medical bill.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, I have no money. I’ll do your laundry for a week, how ‘bout?” And Rey was chuckling, pulling back to smile up at him. His eyes were soft, easy now, none of the tension he’d held when he’d pulled her to him a moment ago. His moods were really like the desert wind, constantly shifting.

“Speaking of laundry,” he said, picking at the awful remains he was wearing, “How about we burn this?” Rey nodded, and stepped back.

“You — head for the fresher. I’ll get the clothes downstairs and be back in say, 2 minutes.” She looked at him questioningly.

“If you think I’m going to take 2 minutes for my first shower in _2 months_ , the light side has left you entirely cracked,” he said. She batted at his arm and he grinned, stepping away from her and heading for the ‘fresher. He left the door partly open to keep his exit clear and Rey headed back into the common area. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of a prior sexual assault and some messed-up power dynamics.

In the hallway, she took a second to breathe and looked down at herself — still soaked, still wreaking of sea-water and sweat, blood on her leggings from the nick in her knee. She shook her head and turned the corner. There, hovering, were Poe and Chewie, Chewie’s arms full of food and a jangle of water bottles, a pile of clothes behind him on the table. Finn must have tagged-out with Poe to take a turn flying, or to avoid Ben, she couldn't be sure.

“You were in there a while,” Poe said, a hint of accusation in his voice. She suddenly felt how tired she was and leaned a bit against the wall. She nodded slowly.

“I wanted to get him entirely healed before doing anything else — he’s in the ‘fresher now.” She smiled at Chewie, ignoring Poe's scowl for the moment.

“Thanks for those. I think we can eat out here, no need to stay in the med bay now he can get around without bleeding everywhere.” 

Poe’s face paled a little and he leaned back, saying: “I sent a message to the General, letting her know we’ve got him. No reply yet.” Rey nodded and Chewie turned to start arranging the food on the table. She looked down at herself, grimacing again at the state of her clothing.

“I’m going to dry off and get changed.” Rey headed for her quarters. 

As soon as the door hushed shut, she closed her eyes. In a rush, she raised fists and wrapped them around her empty stomach and _squeezed_ , trying to get all of the tension out, trying to regain her equilibrium. He was out. He was safe. 

She had no idea what she was doing. 

She shook her head at herself and decided to focus on what she could do, right this minute. She stripped out of her clothes and toweled herself the rest of the way dry as best she could. She bandaged her knee. She changed into a dry, clean tunic and leggings. She wrapped a warm jacket around her shoulders to ward off the last of the ocean’s chill and sighed. Maybe she could understand the value of owning more than one change of clothes. Maybe.

She could still hearing the water running through the Falcon towards the med bay 'fresher and looked around her room, deciding what she needed to do to get it ready. 

Her bed was on the lower bunk; she’d been using the upper-bunk for junk: wrenches, torches, a rivet-gun she'd liberated from an unloving workbench, some spare engine parts she was messing around with when she couldn’t sleep. She hauled that all off and was about to toss it under the bed when she saw Ben’s book. She reached out a free hand, dropping a compressor in the process and wincing to think of the tooling it would need now, and gently moved the book to her pillow. Then she tossed all of her junk under her bed, shoving it too far back to be easily seen from standing. She took his book over to her bookshelf with its clear plastic doors where she’d been keeping the book Jyndan Ingo had given her on Naka-Daka, a funny-looking pebble she'd picked-up on Ahch-To, a spare antenna for BB-8. She laid Ben’s book there where he could see it from the top bunk. 

She pulled a set of sheets from out of a wall drawer set to work making the upper bunk, not thinking about why. That lasted about as long as it took to tug the sheets into hospital corners, and then she laid her head against the mattress, forehead still damp on the cool, dry cotton. Now she had some distance and the awe-inducing relief of knowing for the first time in months that he wasn’t being hurt, she’d have to decide on some ground rules. 

She wanted to crawl into the newly-made bed, have him crawl in after her to wrap his warm, newly-healed body around hers. She wanted to wake up in a tangle of limps and dig her hands into his soft hair, taste his mouth for the first time and again. She let herself hold onto that image, let it sing down her fingers and up her spine, low, low in her gut; let the thought of it make her toes curl -- and then let it drift.

She had to let it go, let this fever cool, because every time she thought of kissing Ben while he had nowhere to go, nowhere to sleep but a bed she shared with him, no protection from the First Order and the justice of the Resistance but her; every time she imagined that, all she could think of was the Stormtrooper.

He'd been in the unit that had taken her. He’d come back to Jakku a month after they left on some kind of leave to find her and bring her flowers, Maker knew from where. He’d said he hadn’t been a part of the group that raped her; he'd said he felt bad for her, had wanted to make it up to her.

She’d been so hungry, unable to scavenge from the shakes she got every time one of the male scavengers so much as looked at her. She'd wanted to kill him. She’d let him take her to dinner at what passed for a nice place in town, tried to eat as much as she could, as fast as she could. When she couldn't take his looks or his hand on her anymore, she excused herself and climbed through the 'fresher window. She managed to keep the food down for a few hours, but lost it outside of her AT-AT.

In her meditations with Luke, she’d tried to think of that night from the Stormtrooper’s perspective. He probably assumed she was a willing sex worker, never having spent time to think that there were boundaries that every person wants protected regardless of their job; he had probably thought he was a good guy for abstaining at the time, for wanting it to seem like a date. He probably thought he was being gallant to a backwater scavenger girl. 

Luke had been pretty horrified when he’d glimpsed the direction of her meditation and told her something she’d kept between her ribs ever since:  “There are some people you don’t have to forgive, that even the light would never ask you to. Those who treat people as things; those who use power, intentionally or not, to hurt people, to take things from them they would not willingly give without that power imbalance. They live in the dark side. The lust for the power to make others act against their wills, that’s what true darkness is.”

He’d shaken his head. “I read somewhere that the dividing line between good and evil runs through every creature’s heart; it’s our job as Jedi to make sure it touches us and those we help as little as possible. But if you learn to smell for power and see what the wrong uses of it takes from people, you’ll be a lot farther along than many of the old order.” He’d sighed, standing, indicating their meditation was over for the night. “If I had to guess, I would say you have a better sense of that line and the smell of misused power and where it leads than most people I've trained.”

Rey rolled her forehead on the bed, trying to do the complex calculus of the power between her and Ben Solo. He was bigger than her; sure. He had nearly bested her with a lightsaber; yes. If he chose to go back to the First Order and if they took him back or if he decided to start his own dark side cult, he had a nearly unimaginable capacity to cause harm, or at least to stand-by as it arced red across the galaxy to kill billions. But he was also penniless, only recently had been too hurt to walk under his own power, traumatized by what he’d gone through in the past few months and probably since the night Luke had tried to kill him. She wondered how to weigh his kind face, his gentle fingertips sliding into her hair, the softness of his eyes when he spoke to her: were they a kind of power as well, a power over her she felt every moment they were together? She set them aside and weighed the scale, balanced it, nudging it back and forth, up and down in her mind.

She watched the scales waver, shivering up and down the way Unkar Plot's antique brass scale always had when she brought in some rare metals for trade. Her hopes slipped and slid on those scales: her duty against the hunger to hold Ben in her arms tonight.

The scales tipped and balanced a final time, the outcome as stark as a desert daybreak. She had more power than Ben did right now. So much more, the scale on her side nearly tipped all the way to the ground. She could decide to space him and nearly no-one in the resistance would hold her accountable. Chewie would fight her, but she didn’t think Poe or Finn would if she gave a good enough reason. Ben needed her for food, for shelter, for comfort, for healing, for friendship, for safety. He needed her, or someone like her, to help him navigate his new world until he found his footing. She couldn't twist that into something else, couldn't risk poisoning what might come later, when he was well, when he was his own person again.

She groaned into the mattress, full of self-irritation. She _wanted_ him, in a way she hadn’t wanted anyone before. She _wanted_ to put her mouth on his strong, supple body, to taste the places she’d healed, the lick her way into his mouth until he was shivering, squirming with joy and arousal under her. She wanted his hands in her hair, his hips under hers, his big brown eyes wide with wonder at her amazing self over him.

But if she took that, now, when he didn’t have other options — a nausea roiled in her stomach, bursting up her throat the way it had halfway through dinner with that Stormtrooper. She couldn’t do that to him. She wanted him whole and happy and if in the end, he chose her freely? She would be jumping over stars and swinging wild through the galaxy with joy; her skin rippled with goosebumps with anticipation. But she wasn’t going to take anything when he didn’t the option of saying no. She wasn’t going to sparkle-wrap it to make herself feel better, pretend that she was giving him something, because she’d seen the dividing line between good and evil in her own heart and she knew she wanted Ben for herself, not only for him.

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself. This was going to suck to explain. She still heard the ‘fresher going and so grabbed the book with the pictures of pottery Jyndan had given her and headed towards the med bay. 

Chewie was playing a solo game of holochess in the common room, Poe sitting with Finn in the cockpit. She nodded to Chewie and headed to the back, stepping around the chair holding the door open and smelling the scent of soap coming from the fresher. The ship hadn’t been built with a ‘fresher as far as she could see, so to get to it you had to walk through the med bay, down down a brightly-lit, if narrow, hallway to what had used to be a supply closet. Everyone had their own shelf outside the unit and she smiled a little, wondering whose supplies Ben had chosen to snarf. 

She stripped the med bay bed and remade it, figuring the next injury might not give them time to do it, so better to prepare beforehand. The sheets were blue, crisp and clean. She ran a hand over them and the smooth fabric called to her. She hopped-up onto the bed and opened the book. It was in a script she didn’t recognize, but there were a bunch of instructables, showing step-by-step how to repair broken things, making them more than they were before. She hunched over, feet dangling, as she traced her finger around the curves of the pots in the crisp, glossy photos. Her back twinged and so she pivoted, leaning back on the raised pillow on the bed, tucking her feet under the thin, pale blue blanket before adjusting her shoulders to its unexpected softness. She was still getting the hang of pillows, of the idea that you could sleep on something totally soft. 

After a minute, her back twinged again a little at the odd, half-upright position and she turned onto her side and lowering the bed mechanically, scanning through another article that seemed to be about a pottery-firing technique that involved digging a hole, filling it with wood with the raw-clay pot in the middle, covering the wood with clay, then setting the whom damn thing on fire.

The flames waved before her eyes. Her eyes were drooping, her muscles sensing a chance to recover, and the book fell closed on her hand as she fell hard and deep to sleep.

—

Rey awoke, sound and sight and smell all mixing-up confusingly. She was soft and safe and somewhere unexpected; the lights were bright and the voices were familiar but not ones whose timbres she’d heard mixing before. Burrowing down into her pillow, her ears cleared a little and she heard:  


“Hush, she’s sleeping.”

She peaked her eyes open to see Ben standing with his hands braced on either side of the doorway, looming over Poe. His broad back was bare, drops of water still sliding down his spine and with only a towel inched around his waist. She squeezed her eyes shut again before she could take anything in further.

“What are you doing in there with her?” Poe’s voice was as quiet as he was ever going to get, which was pretty much anyone else’s outside voice. Rey grumbled sleepily to herself, counting the seconds until she had to intervene in this particular measuring contest. She just wanted to sleep for a million years. She felt both men’s attention shift to her and then back to each other, their tones a little quieter.

“I just got out of the ‘fresher and she was asleep,” Ben said, voice even, filtering in to Rey's ears as if from a long distance. A thread of irritation slipped in when he said: “I just was coming out to see if anyone had some clothes I could borrow since these,” and he must have gestured, “Aren’t going to cut it.”

There was a long, stiff silence, and then Poe sighed, and there was the sound of cloth being thrust into someone's chest.

Then, the sound of bare feet heading back towards the 'fresher and she felt a light hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to Poe’s worried eyes, his permanent beard shadow a little deeper than usual.

“Hey, Rey, you ok? Did he do anything to you?” And Rey sat up, shaking her head as decisively as she could without opening her eyes. The terrible thought came to her she'd need to see to get back to her bunk, so she began rubbing them, trying to wake-up. She patted Poe’s shoulder vaguely:

“Ben’s right, I conked out over here while he was still in the ‘fresher.” She stretched her arms high above her head and said: “You’ve been on shift for a long time, need me to take a spell at the console?”

And he laughed as she blinked tiredly at him and struggled until he bent to help her untangle her feet from the bedding. “No, I think you’re dead on your feet. Chewie’s got me covered, then Finn, then maybe you if you can see straight.” His voice lowered. “But seriously, Rey, are you ok?”  
  
She nodded, clasping her hands behind her back and stretching them out and up until her shoulders popped and Poe winced.

“Yeah, Poe, I’m ok. Where are we heading, anyway?”  
  
And if she didn’t know any better, she would say Poe looked relieved to be off the subject of _feelings_ and onto something more fun, like plotting flight plans.

“Finn’s found us 3 options, all resistance-friendly-ish with places we can lay low and, uh,” a flush rose to flourish across his sharp cheekbones, “all of them have summer for the next few months and Class 7 beaches.”

Rey snorted and glanced towards the ‘fresher, the rustling of Ben changing still coming from down the hallway. Poe leaned in close, speaking fast:  
  
“Is the scantron menace bunking in here?”

And she shook her head, whispering, “The _what_?” 

Poe shook his head. “Scantrons? Like for tests? He was a nerd, growing up. Did you have standardized tests on Jakku? Don’t change the subject.” He looked at her levely and said: “And don’t deflect. I’ll back your play but I need to know what it is. Where’s he sleeping tonight?”  
  
Rey answered, trying to sound firm and self-assured, leaning her hips back against the bed: “He’s taking the top bunk in my cabin and the door is staying open. Actually, can you tell the others, if we can avoid shutting Ben in rooms for a while?” She said, keeping her voice light even as her eyes communicated the weight of the request.  
  
Poe looked like he was going to object then thought better of it. The sound of soft footsteps approached through the hallway from the ‘fresher and Rey realized they would have to find Ben some boots.

Poe nodded to her and moved away: “Let me know if you need anything. I’ve got my blaster ready.” And Rey nodded her head, heart worried but knowing her friend was just trying to make her feel safe.

Ben’s steps slowed around the corner and paused, before what sounded like a fortifying breath, then he turned around the corner, his stride powerful, eyes scanning for Poe. The dark grey clothes fit him oddly, stretching over his shoulders and hanging around his waist, but even so, he looked like someone out of a holo-play, some kind of dark prince in disguise. Rey bit her tongue, _Must be exhausted, no way I’m that romantic_. His black hair hung loose around his face, slipping over his ears in a way that made Rey's fingers itched to comb it back. She breathed-in on the count of 3 and let it go. 

When Ben didn’t see Poe his haughty look faded back, a sheen of uncertainty hovering over his expression. Rey patted the side of the bed where she was leaning and he came to lean beside her, arms held tight across his stomach.

“I’ve made-up the top bunk in my cabin and cleared-out half the drawer. We’ll get you some soap and shoes and anything else you need at the next trading post.” She said and he looked down at her.

“Where are we heading?” His voice was deep and warm, like it had been in their Force connections, but there was still something different about hearing it in person, the way the sound moved, tickling her ears and making her eyes light up.

She said: “I was thinking you could choose. Finn has a list of three planets that will be good to stay at for a few months.”

“And then?” He asked, and if she’d never met him before she would have thought the question light, casual, about the weather or some political issue that would never affect him. But she had met him, had stepped through the volcanic castle of his mind, and knew what he meant. She tried to say it right:

“The General agreed to give us a few months to heal,” she said, trying to ground herself in what she knew to be true: “and to continue her sympathy campaign.” He nodded, remembering the updates Rey had been sending for wide distribution in the resistance for weeks. Rey took a breath:

“And then there would be a trial.” And nothing changed in his body: he was still breathing, still warm, still right beside her, but without reaching out with anything other than her intuition, she knew his mind was racing, howling down windless corridors of possibilities. She took another breath.

She tried to keep her voice neutral, say everything she needed to say with words alone, the space between their arms feeling like parsecs: “I made no promises about you,” at this, he glanced down at her, dark eyes quizzical. She clarified: “I never told the General you would give-up secrets, sell information for safety.” And she hurried to add: “And she never asked. She said she just wanted you back, how did she say it, ‘whole and repentant.’” And Rey didn’t look to him to see what he thought of this, had no idea if he believed he had anything to repent for. She was suddenly so, so tired and she raised a hand to push away the headache building in her forehead: “I don’t know if going back to the resistance is going to be the right path. I don’t know what you think, but if it’s not the right path, I’ll do what’s necessary to keep it from happening.”

And she left that there, hanging in the air and heard him suck a huge breath in, something happening inside his head she couldn’t guess at. When she glanced up, his face was a whirl of emotions, flurries and torrents and she had to close her eyes lest she get swept away by them. Then she felt fingers around her elbow, pulling her back to this moment.

“We have 2 months, right?” Ben asked. She nodded.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m so tired I could sleep _inside_ a Tauntaun,” and he drooped a little against her shoulder, the hot line of his arm against hers doing more to wake her up than anything they'd said in these past few minutes. She stood up straight, stepping away and turning to face him.

“Alright, I’ve got the top-bunk ready for you. Let’s go, Solo,” and started to turn towards the door. He caught her hand, ring and pinky finger curling around the side of her palm, tickling against the calloused skin there.

“You said that before,” he said slowly, eyes watchful. “Are _you_ sleeping on the top bunk?” She shook her head, anxiety rising in her stomach like bad food. She didn’t step any closer and so he did, eyes searching hers.

“After the cave, I had assumed —“

And she shook her head, trying to be kind, trying to say — “Ben —“ and he dropped her hand like a hot stone, hands going behind his back as he took a big step back, bumping into the med bay table in his haste.

“It’s fine,” he said, “Nevermind.”

And her guts were twisting and she forced herself to say. “I want to, with you.” And his eyes lifted to hers, pain dimmed by a rising hope, as clear as sunlight.

She cleared her throat, eyes skittering over the kissable moles on his too-thin face, trying to find a safe place to land and finding only roiling seas: “I want to, and that’s the problem.”

He cocked his head, settling back against the med bay bed.

“Is this, is this some kind of Jedi celibacy thing?” He asked. “Because I know that was one of the old rules, but I didn’t think —“

And Rey was shaking her head. “No, it’s not, and it’s not a lack of wanting, because let me fucking _assure_ you, that is not the problem here.” 

His arms slowly unfolded, but his body was still held away from hers; she figured she deserved that.

She sighed, dropping her head and rubbing her neck. “You know about power, right?” And he nodded, expression curious.

“Alright,” she said, trying to think of a way to explain this when she didn’t have all the words for it herself, without talking about the Stormtrooper and mixing everything up. “Here’s what I’m aiming for:” She said, closing her eyes and pressing an image towards him through their connection.

Rey's vision wasn’t them having sex; those were thoughts she had so tightly under lockdown she had to look for the key to find it. It wasn’t a grand fight, a massive battle, the First Order at her feet, though that was a daydream she cherished. It wasn’t even the silly, romantic things she’d seen couples do for each other since she joined the resistance — him bringing her fancy jam after a trip off world, her straightening his collar, their hands, calloused palms touching in a just light.

Rey wasn't even in this vision at the beginning, this hope she’d been hanging onto since the first time they’d touched with more than friendship in the cave on Ahch-To, held on so tight she thought she would burst from it.

The vision was just Ben. Ben playing cards at a table with a rich, green-felt top, surrounded by people who loved him. Ben, laughing and teasing them, body whole, smiles quick and un-hindered. Ben as a free man. He got up to get food he liked from a kitchen where he knew where everything went, then returning to the table to join in a joke. It was loud and warm and might be the closest thing to heaven Rey had ever seen. Then the doorbell rang and another Rey entered, a little older, a little wilder, a lot happier. She had a heavy bag on her back, and when Ben came to the door, he swept her up in a big hug and pressed a sound kiss to her mouth in spite of the jeers from the card table that she good-naturedly flipped-off. This Rey held onto her Ben for a minute longer in the vision, drowning in gratefulness that this was the future they could both have, _together, alive and here and free_.

She pulled back with a gasp, the charcoal-cooked-dinner on the table still warm in her nose, the sound of cards tapping on the table and friends' laughter still ringing in her ears. Ben’s face was open; he saw and had understood what he had seen.

“So, you want me to be a free man before we go any further.” He said, eyes narrowing as he clarified. She nodded gratefully.

“And you want this because —?”

She struggled to put it to words, face tight as she tried to think through how to explain, body so, so tired, and so when he held up a hand, she was grateful. 

“I'll tell you what I think and you tell me if I'm wrong.” She nodded, grateful for the help.

He held up one finger. “You think you have more power over me right now,” he held up a second finger, as her stomach did a flip, “That freaks you out,” he held up a third finger, sharing a teasing grin with her before continuing, “You want to me to be free to choose you or leave, so I can be,” and he tried to think of the right phrasing, drawing on something he’d heard his mother shout, usually in the context of childcare responsibilities, “An equal partner.”

Rey nodded, glad that he’d gotten it. But he lowered his hand, shaking his head.

“But what if that’s not what I want?” Rey’s eyes were startled and he took a step towards her. She held her ground.

“What if I’m willing to risk it?” His eyes were piercing, devouring, and she suppressed a shiver.

“Risk what?” She asked, voice low, with a sadness born of experience weaving through it, “Risk that I would hurt you while thinking I was caring for you? Risk that one day, you’d wake up in my bed, realize you’d never had a choice, and leave? Realize you hated me for taking advantage of you when you had no one else? Realize that the only reason we're together is your skin hunger because no one else was here to touch you? Realize that some part of you, even now, thinks this is a way to secure your position here, to keep surviving? Shit, Ben, not 3 hours ago,” and she sucked in her breath, mind and heart too tired from the past days and weeks to finish that sentence. She looped back to the beginning. “I’m not willing to risk that. So yes, I want to wait for you to be a free man, have an equal choice in the matter, before we —“ And she stopped herself again. "Before we go any further than we have." She finished, voice tight.

His voice was cracked, haggard, when he said: "And it's just that easy for you, for you to just —"

He took a deep breath, considering. She felt his feelings brush up against hers: disappointment, confusion, pain, a warmth almost too hot to touch; but under that, under the frustration and rage and pain was something like gratitude, something like understanding. She wondered when the last time someone had protected him from himself had been. He let that breath out between his teeth and his face shifted, weight moving onto one hip, his eyes crinkled at the corner; it looked like a mask he'd put on to protect her or himself, but she was so tired she didn't want to find out what he was really feeling, not at least until they'd gotten some rest.

“Is that the only vision you've had of us?” He asked, voice teasing, warm, tone shifting. He’d either given-up the fight because he’d seen reason, or he thought getting her to share what she wanted would get them back on the path to getting there. She shook her head, seeing the end of that gambit, not willing to be drawn in, to be tempted:  
  
“You’re not going to get me to show you _that_ kind of vision, Ben Solo. You’ve got an imagination of your own. I’ve seen the inside of it. You’ll just have to guess. My morals cannot be tempted, not even by your luscious self.” She said, gesturing to his shoulders, hips, strong legs and back up to his soft-lipped mouth. He laughed, smiling at her description.

“Lucious,” he said, thinking, cocking his head, “I don’t know if anyone’s ever called me 'luscious' before.” Rey shook her head, embarrassed burst of red rising in her cheeks. Ben continued: “Tell me, Rey, what other adjectives could you use to describe my wonderful self?” He said, and the tension was broken, the ghost of a giggle wiggling its way up from her stomach. She batted him on the arm, saying:  
  
“Your ego is clearly fully healed, you’ll need no further help from me.” And smiled at him, grin even brighter when he returned it back to her.

This time, when she walked down the corridor, he followed her. They grabbed some food, stuffed it in their mouths, and went to her room. Without complaint, Ben climbed up into the top bunk, tossed his pillow onto the floor, and was out a minute later, snoring into the mattress. Rey propped the door to her quarters open, nodded to Chewy — whose solo holochess game was looking more and more like it was a cover for a subtle protective detail — and fell asleep.

—

At least 10 hours later but still not long enough to shake the weariness from her bones, Rey awoke to Ben climbing down from the top bunk. It was made for someone with less bulk than him, and swayed on its bolts at the motion; she would have to fix that before the whole thing came crashing down on them and they ended up sharing a bed in the med bay.

She groaned and covered her face again with her blanket; if he wanted to wake her up, he would have to be proactive. But he didn’t seem to want to, his soft feet heading towards the ‘fresher and then a few minutes later, back to the common area. She didn’t hear anyone else there, no grunts of the pawns in holochess, no shuffling of paper notes on star charts as Finn rifled through them to find their next destination. It was quiet and he didn’t come back in. She was considering getting-up to check on him when sleep took her down again.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour later when she awoke again, this time to low voices. She opened her eyes but couldn’t see anyone through the door. She strained her ears, trying to catch what they were saying. 

Ben’s voice was nearest the door, low to the ground like he was lying on his back on one of the benches rimming the room. Thank the Maker for Poe’s never-indoor-voice, because even though he was standing in the entrance to the cockpit, she could hear every word he said when he asked:

“Rey kick you out?” 

Rey paused, stilling her breath in her chest to hear Ben’s reply.

After a long moment, Ben said: “No.” 

His voice sounded muffled, like he had his arm over his face.

“Then what are you doing, sleeping out here?” Poe asked. There was no answer. Rey heard Poe's flight boots slap the floor as he walked past Ben to where they kept the food. She heard him rustle in the pantry, pulling out something soft and crinkly.

He stepped closer to Ben and asked: “Candy?” She heard Ben shift on the bench, and his soft:  
  
“Thanks.” There was thump and Poe must have sat down at the table across from Ben. More crinkling.

She heard a heavy sigh, the sound of a pilot about to dive into unclear atmosphere.

“Look, I don’t want to ask, because I fundamentally don’t want to know, but since you’re sulking in a public area, and that tells me you _want_ me to ask. So — what’s up? Why aren’t you with Rey?”

And she heard a sharp sound, like hard candy being viciously snapped between gnashing teeth. Then she heard Ben’s gruff voice:

“Because _Rey_ has _morals._ ” 

He said the word ‘ _morals_ ’ in the darkest tone Rey had ever heard used on it; though perhaps not the darkest tone the Falcon had heard it spoken in, given its prior owner.

She heard Poe snort, a choking sound followed by the crinkle of another piece of candy being unwrapped. _Where had he been hiding the candy? It had been 2 months on this damn ship and Rey had seen zero (0) pieces of candy. Was Finn in on this heinous subterfuge?_ She re-focused on the conversation.

Poe had recovered himself to say: “Sounds like our Rey. And I’m guessing those morals don’t involve bunking with you?” No reply, but she heard the _crack_ of another piece of hard candy being smashed.

She heard a creaking, like Poe was leaning back in the chair, straining hinges. Then a pause and Poe asked: 

“Did she tell you why?” And there was another silence, before Ben’s sullen voice came through:

“She thinks I’m not free to choose and she doesn’t want to choose something for me.”

Poe was silent this time; his mouth must be full of candy because there was no other way Rey could see him being quiet this long. Then Ben shattered the silence, voice rising and frustrated:

“As if I’ve ever done anything I didn’t want to, in my entire life,” and then he paused, the rustling of a candy wrapper filling the pained quiet that followed. Then he said: “Until recently.”

Poe’s reply was different, rougher maybe, like he was having an emotion and didn’t know where to put it: “Maybe that’s what she’s worried about, bud.”

“Maybe,” he allowed grudgingly, “But maybe I don’t want to be told how powerless I am and why that makes me utterly unworthy of affection.”

Poe snapped back: “I don’t think I’d call her wearing herself out healing you last night a lack of ‘affection,’ and if she didn’t care about you, she wouldn’t have done whatever it was she did to the guards last night.” The sound of Ben shifting on the bench, then:

“Rey didn’t do anything to the guards — just one of them, and he attacked her first. She just; talked at them, and then they gave in.” He said, voice skeptical, like he didn’t trust his interpretation of what he’d seen.

Poe was drumming his knuckles on the tabletop: “Well, I got a return dispatch from the General after you two were down for the count, confirming that the entire Nauticus garrison, minus a Sergeant Barda, had been neatly packaged up by the Chriss and shipped to the nearest resistance base within hours of your departure ‘as a gesture of good will and with our apologies,’ the note tied to their gags it said. ‘We didn’t realize he had the protection of the Jedi. They are yours for trial,’ it said.” Poe hummed to himself again. “That sure sounds like she did something, even if it’s not near so bloody as what you or I might have done.”

Rey’s eyes snapped open and her mouth dropped. _All_ of them? Sergeant Barda must have cleaned house and fast.

“What do resistance trials look like?” Ben asked, and Poe’s finger-drumming stopped. There was a sound of an empty wrapper being crinkled and uncrinkled, crinkled and uncrinkled.

“I’ve only seen a few,” Poe hemmed, then said: “There’s a judge, a jury,”

“And executioner?” Ben asked, a tone of mocking in his voice. Poe glided over that and said:  
  
“Not generally, no. There aren’t a lot of crimes that the Republic attached the death penalty to. The only time I’ve heard of it is with war criminals,” a pause, “and then only those weren’t in the room. I’ve never seen a resistance jury sentence someone to death who they had to look in their eyes. I’ve seen them order people we haven’t captured, people we’re never _going_ to capture, ordered by a jury to be shot on sight, but those are their theoretical morals. Most people won’t kill, given the chance to back out.”

“Not me.” Ben said, and Rey wasn’t quite sure of his tone.

Poe agreed, voice in the same strange the same tone. “Not you. But that’s the thing, you’re _you_ ; and you’re also Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren; and you’re also a moron most of us watched grow up. Which of these three people gets sentenced will have a lot to do with what Rey and the General do.”

She heard Poe clap his hands together: “Which brings us back to our original topic. Look, I’m not going to tell you how to manage your life,” earning a scoff from Ben. Poe ignored him and bullied on:  “But Rey’s right, the way lightsiders always seem to be on the big things. You don’t have a lot of options here, right now, and maybe it feels like a good idea to cling onto the one good thing you’ve got going for you. I get that.” He said, voice quiet and sure.

Then: “But you shouldn’t. You should try to get better, _be_ better, before being with someone else. As much as it makes me throw-up in my mouth a little to see it, Rey seems to genuinely care about what happens to you. Not just what you can do for her." Poe took a deep breath:

"I don’t know if you met a lot of people like her, growing up at the General’s knee or whatever hell hole you’ve been digging for yourself the past 10 years, but she’s not going to budge once she thinks she’s right. Not a damn micrometer.”

The sound of Poe leaning back: “So our girl’s told you not yet; that’s not a ‘not ever,’ even though I want to be clear, I 100% think it should be. But again, I’m not here to tell you or Rey how to run your lives.” If she could hear a shrug in a man’s voice, she would have heard it in Poe’s: “Play your cards right and you might get to be friends with one of the best women in the galaxy. I think that is something anyone should be happy with. And hoping for any more is just tempting fate.” A pause, the sound of Poe standing.

“On that note, I have to wake the best _man_ _his_ turn to fly this bucket of bolts.” His boots tapped away across the floor.  
  
“Hey, Dameron,” Ben called out and the other man’s footsteps slowed to a stop. “Thanks for the candy and,” there was a pause, “I didn’t mean it, what I said on the _Finalizer_.” The air hardened to iron. Ben’s voice was insistent, clear:  
  
“I knew, when we took you, who you were. That you were the finest pilot in the resistance." His voice a little quieter, then: "I hadn’t forgotten.”

__

Poe had stopped walking, sounding unsure how to respond. He said: “Ok.” Then a pause.

The sound of his steps, getting closer and closer to where Ben sat now. The crinkling of a candy wrapper stopped, replaced by the sound of the project system being booted up.

“These are the 3 planets Finn’s picked out — take a look. We’ll all decide one way or another once Rey’s up.”

And then Poe went to his and Finn’s room, closing the door behind him.

—

Rey awoke to Ben’s face near hers, his hand demurely on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. He smelled warm, comfortable and like he’d stolen _her_ soap, her incredibly boring generic soap bar when he could have had whatever frou-frou thing Poe insisted someone gave him as a joke but that he kept getting new bottles of whenever it ran out, sometimes requiring great drama.

“Soup’s up,” he said, “and while I don’t expect you’re as hungry as I am, you haven’t eaten a full meal in 20 hours. Time to fix that.”

She groaned and tried to bludgeon him with her pillow, efforts he manfully evaded until she stopped, flopping back on her back.

“I have to get up?” She asked. He nodded and she made a face, pivoting to climb out of the bottom bunk.

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing at where her sleeping pants had hitched-up over the bandage on her knee. She stretched it, hissing as the scab split.

“You’re hurt?” He asked, motioning her to sit back again, big hands going to her calf. He crouched beside her bed, bare feet cold on the ship deck, still wearing the soft grey shirt he’d pulled from the pile last night.

She shook her head: “I jammed my knee climbing over the ridge on our way out of the prison.” 

“You didn’t say anything,” he said severely, unwrapping the bandage with hands whose gentleness belied his tone. His sword-fighting callouses rusked against the soft skin of her ankle, but his touch was still light, holding her like he was unsure of his welcome. _Sometimes being moral sucks_ she thought to herself and he raised startled eyes to her, a slow grin rising across his face, eyes dancing with it. He quirked his eye brows, and passed along:

_I take it you didn’t mean to share that_. 

She shook her head no, neck warming up. He chuckled, going back to unwrapping her bandage. _It’s good to know you’re not perfect in your use of the Force_ , he passed along and she huffed, this time intentionally sending:  
  
_I’m not used to having any other Force users around_ , she said, waiting for him to offer to teach her, to ask questions about Luke, to tease her for her slip-up. Instead, he focused on unwrapping the rest of her bandage, wincing at the bloody scrape and touching the edges of it gently to check for warmth.

“I took care of it, last night,” she said defensively, and his hands stilled.

“You took care of _me_ , last night,” he corrected, rubbing his hand on the healed skin of his forearm. His skin was pale in the dim light coming into the room from the common area, scattered with moles, but unmarred by any of the awful hashes and carved-in words that had lingered there for days and weeks in the Nauticus prison. “And you should have done the same to yourself.”  
  
Rey looked back at him, defiant: “I didn’t know how much you needed, how badly you were hurt. I didn’t want to come in and not have enough energy to heal you entirely.”

He didn't chase the point, fingers still light around the cut, stilling for a moment:

“You know, touch healing is a lightside affinity,” he said, tone casual.

“What happens when you try?” Rey asked, remembering the feeling of his energy trickling through her while she healed him in the med bay. He shrugged.   
  
“Outside of the dreams, I haven’t tried since I was 15.” And she looked at him, trying to think of him at 15, when he’d last worn that dark grey shirt. Would his ears have stood out more? His face looked grown-into now, but would it have been gawky, or a just a different kind of handsome than he was now?

_Want to try_? She asked and he looked at her, worry in his eyes before shaking his head. 

_Healings like this can go very wrong if dark side power touches them_ , he said, _cancers, fire, blood poison — I’ve read the texts, it gets really ugly_. 

Rey nodded, thinking about it. “I trust you to tell me what you can and can’t do.” Eyes curious, he asked:

“How about you do it and I’ll watch, from in here,” and he tapped the light hair over her temple, his touch making her smile. She considered and said, “Ok.” When she breathed a door in her mind open and let him into a small room. 

It was dusty and warm, the high afternoon sun pouring through the windows, their grills painted long and supple on the ragged red carpeted floor. The air was still in the way summer afternoon air can be, hanging between mid-day and twilight, alight and alive with light. They were sitting, shoulder-to-shoulder against a half-empty bookcase, legs crossed on a well-loved red patterned rug. Ben looked around: “Is this where you lived, on Jakku?” 

Rey laughed: “I wish — nothing so fancy." She flashed to a wall of hash-marks, an indent in the collected sand. She brought them back: "No, this is a place I stayed once, when Unkar sent me as a guard for a trading shipment at Niima Outpost.” She waved her hand and a blur of crowded, beige-robed figures filled the room to its edges before fading back away.

“But I liked it here, liked imagining it empty like this. It seemed,” and she shared feelings of quiet, calm, a rare safety. He nodded, thinking of the few places he’d found like that, in trees, in closets surrounded by the smell of family, among stacks and stacks of books. She stretched out her leg, pant hitched-up to her thigh, the cut a hard red in the pale knobble of her knee. She pressed his hand over it, fingers between his, and said:

“Ready?” He nodded and she began, slipping energy through his palm, into her own body. It wasn’t that the connection to the Force was coming from him; it was all hers. But it was flowing through him and not finding a barrier, like water running through a sponge and coming out just as clean as it went in. It made her stomach flutter, her eyes blink too, too fast. 

The healing itself was quick work, tidying together the bruised flesh and sticking the skin. After a long moment, she pulled their hands away and under a crust of blood, there was her knee, good as new. She moved to stand up, to head them both back to reality, but he gripped her fingers:  
  
“I get what you said, yesterday,” he started, “about morality. I don’t agree, but I won’t push. Not ever.” She nodded, wondering when the ‘but’ was going to come it. “But,” and there it was -- but not how she expected it to be: “I need to know your boundaries. What’s ok with you and what isn’t.”

She paused. She couldn't find an easy answer. She’d expected some impassioned argument about of his ability to defend himself or a rejection or something stark and rough, but not this, this reasonableness. _Poe_ she thought, but kept it to herself.

She took a breath, her hand still in his, resting easy: “I’m comfortable with stuff that wouldn’t have gotten us kicked out of the Happabore Ugly Hostel in Niima Outpost if we were crashing there as preteens.” She waved to the room around them and he nodded.  
  
“So, that allows:” he said, folding his fingers between hers: “Hand holding?”

“Yes,” she said and he ran his thumb around the base of her palm, warmth and tingles following it. She hoped to the Maker she was shielding better than she had been; she had no idea what a feedback loop while they were touching like this would feel like, but it didn't sound conducive to maintaining her boundaries.

“Sitting beside each other in meetings?” He asked, and she nodded, cautioning: “There may be meetings, once we’re back with the rest, that it won’t help you if I’m there. But if it will help, I’ll be there.”

He stepped closer to her, not to crowd her, but close enough to be breathing the same air, close enough enough that their hands hung soft at their sides.

He moved to curve his palm over her cheek before asking: “Can I touch you here?” He asked and she swallowed, feeling something hot and fluttering settle through her stomach and lower. She nodded.

“Is this ok?” She asked, raising her hand to the strong curve of his jaw, her hand stopping a millimeter away, uncomfortable being the only one setting boundaries. He nodded, and bit back that she could touch him pretty much anywhere and he would be fine -- more than fine -- with it.

She slowly turned her wrist, tracing her knuckles down the line of his cheekbone, alongside his Adams apple as he swallowed. His eyes fluttered closed, soft black lashes gently curved against the pale skin of his cheek and he took a deep breath before opening them again, the darkness in them somehow deeper, eyes looking deep and full into hers. He asked: “What else?” 

She replied, voice was soft with longing, but still clear: “Touching, above the clothes, outside of obvious areas, and in appropriate circumstances.” She pressed herself closer to him, arms tight around his back as his arms raised carefully to gather her in.

His voice was low, yearning pinging all the way down her body as he asked: “Anything else on the menu?” And she shook her head, temporarily unable to speak. His voice was low and full in her ear when he said: “Alright.”

Then her stomach gurgled and she laughed, tension breaking: “Let’s get back; I’m starving,”

“Alright,” he said again, this time with a small smile, and in their next breath, they were back, his hands still on her calf, her body still seated on the bunk, the cut now totally closed. She stood and helped him stand with a stiff movement. Only then did she realize Finn and Poe's heads were peaking around the open door, eyes wide with shock.

“What in the Maker’s name were you doing?” Finn asked, voice high with worry. Rey looked at Ben and a startled laugh escaped her. Finn’s voice was rising, getting squeaky: “We looked in because we sent Ren to get you and he was taking forever and we thought, I don’t know, he’d gotten lost from the brain damage or something. But no, you’re both sitting there, still as stone.”

“Finn started yelling,” Poe said, eyes twinkling and then mimicking his partner: “‘Poe! Poe! Ren’s got her trapped in some kind of spell, like a Dagobahn-cobra!’” And then the pilot was doubling over, laughing as Finn glared at his bent back. Rey frowned at them, glancing at Ben, but he seemed bemused by the attention. She talked over their guffaws:  
  
“Nope, Ben was helping me heal my knee,” she gestured to where the blood was still crusted around it, and Finn made a face. “Did someone say there was candy?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I got this up right before I boarded my flight to Nigeria. I caught a few typos in line to my seat, so please bear with me, I’ll snatch the rest when I can get back online. I hope you enjoy it and your comments really do give me life. 
> 
> Update: Typos caught, skinned, and their pelts turned into better writing! One of the things I'm working-on as a writer in 2018 is being a better self-editor, so thank you everyone for bearing with me and -- can I just say -- after getting on the Heathrow wifi after a red-eye across the globe, your comments were the best things? Not even Toblerone surpassed seeing your comments, and Rey's candy issues are a direct copy of my own. More next week!

There was no candy; none, at least, that Poe would admit to. Rey stared hard at Ben, but there was some kind of confederation amongst the men of the ship against her getting candy. Ben was sitting a few careful inches from her and her palm itched for his; but he'd chosen where he'd sat and was staring stubbornly up at the projector's images as they rotated across the common area. Poe, too, kept trying to distract her with  _options_ for where they could  _land_  to _refuel_  but no matter how many hints she dropped, no candy was forthcoming.

An image of 3 cottages on the beach fluttered by, a lightsaber-blue ocean kissing an ice-white shore encircled by soaring volcanic peaks dripping verdant forests right up to the crystalline sand. She held up her hand and Poe brought the image back:

"That looks defensible," she said with genuine excitement and Poe made a face at her priorities. But Finn nodded:

"Lehon is -- I'm waiting on the full resistance briefing, but this beach is in the remains of a megavolcano's caldera and has never been continuously inhabited." He grinned. "The residual volcanism is the source of some truly incredible hot springs -- they call them champagne hot springs, since they're full of itty-bitty bubbles."

"Who built the cabins?" Poe asked, voice a little harder than Rey would have expected.

Finn answered, eyes steady on the picture of the beach: "30 years ago, it was a Senator's vacation home. The staff managed them after her death, turning it into a rental to cover the upkeep. The last of the staff moved off-planet a few years ago, but they come in monthly to maintain the properties; General Organa has used them several times, as did Senator Mon Mothma's family during tense times." He shrugged: "It's one of our options: low-First Order visibility, good climate, and like Rey said, defensible."  
  
Poe shook his head: "I'm not a fan." He was looking intently at Ben. Rey followed his gaze to the man beside her, seeing a strange, almost hungry look on his face, mixing darkly with something like pain, like fear.

"Why?" Rey asked.

Ben replied, voice rough but somehow detached: "Aside from being a place with beaches good enough for generations of Senators' affairs, Lehon has eons of Force-user history. It was the capital of an empire that rose and fell tens of thousands of years ago and has attracted everyone from Darth Bane to Revan. They all came to its shores in search of the Ratakan secrets: the keys to the Star Forge, the remains of the Infinity Gate, any other Kwa secrets hiding in the dust.”

He ran his hand through his hair, something unsteady about the movement. “There’s not much there now. The locals aren’t descendants of the Rataka empire any more than we are; there may be signs and symbols, but in real way, the only thing left there is the residual Force energy, and that only in specific places. Likely not on that beach, if Senator Mon Motha was comfortable vacationing there.” He looked down at her, body shifting so his shoulder propped behind hers and their thighs pressed together under the table. She returned the pressure warmly, hand slipping under the table to squeeze his wrist, feeling a wash of gratitude from him, hovering like cream over a dark and bitter mixture. 

“If we’re trying to keep on the downlow from other Force sensitives out there, being on Lehon would be like hiding the Falcon in a cloud-bank: not perfect, but better than being on some planet where we stick out like a Hutt on Coruscant.”

Poe leaned across the table and glared at Ben, sharply ticking his reservations off on his fingers: “How do we know there isn’t some kind of Sith artifact or energy _someone_ might want;” another finger, “How do we know this isn’t a trap?” and another, “There are rancors on Lehon. _Everywhere_. _”_ Ben stiffened beside Rey, hands gripping his knees under the table until she could feel his forearms shake with it. 

Rey turned to look at her friend and replied with an even tone: “I’m not sure how Ben could have known Finn would propose traveling to Lehon, so implying he’s laying a trap doesn’t track. We’ll be going to be on the beach, so no digging or trading for artifacts. And let’s just stay the fuck away from the rancors and they’ll hopefully avoid us as well.”

Ben's shoulder moved hard against her, a start, a shrug, something, she looked at him, his dark eyes fixed on the arcing mountains behind the pristine beach.

"The rancors may not want to stay away from us," he said, a thread of heat in his words. She turned to him, the colors of the beach flickering over his pale face, and asked:

"Have you been to Lehon before?" 

A shield in his mind came down so hard it clanged. She hadn’t realized he'd been letting her sense his emotions until she felt like she could blink and he would disappear; he was so far away. He didn't look at her, didn't look away from those green, green mountains as he said, his voice so quiet Poe had to lean forward to hear:

“Snoke left me there, as an early test, for a few months.” He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut and then forcing themselves open again, unable to look away from the mountains: “As long as we stick to the beaches and stay out of the rancor breeding pits, we should be fine.” There was a silence, and Poe asked, something strangled in his tone:  
  
“Snoke left you in the rancor breeding pits?”

Ben’s nod was stiff, muscles in his neck standing out. 

Finn leaned in, asking: “You were with a garrison, you had a base, some First Order-controlled area we should be avoiding?”

He shook his head, clenching his teeth so hard his eyes shimmered with it. Rey tried to send calm towards him, but she felt it bounce back, shudder away from whatever his walls were keeping in.

“How old were you?” Poe asked, voice so, so soft and Rey didn’t know if Ben was going to be able to answer with how tightly he was holding himself. But he gritted out:

“It was the first place he directed me, after Yavin 4."

Rey had expected Ben's mention of the massacre on Yavin 4 to burn away the blush of sympathy she’d seen building on Poe’s face, but it didn’t.

“Fifteen." He said. "You were 15. Oh, Ben,” Poe said and there was a spasm across Ben’s back, hard enough his shoulder smacked into Rey’s. He stood, heading for their room, calling out over his shoulder: 

“I've been through the other options and Lehon is our best bet; no one in the First Order would expect me to return there.” 

The sound of his feet on the ladder followed by the screech of the old springs caught their ears; then silence. Rey could feel nothing from him but an icy wall. Poe’s eyes were wet, his brow furrowed as he looked up at the idyllic picture.

“He might be right.” He said, softly, “but, Maker save me. Fifteen. I saw him, maybe month before what happened, and he was,” Poe shook his head, looking hard at Rey: “Maybe at 15 you could have survived the rancor breeding pits. You’d been on your own. But back then, Ben was,” and he shook his head, trying to find the words, trying to not get tangled-up in it. “Haunted,” he said. “Angry,” he added, folding his hands around themselves. “Trusting, too trusting, it turned out. Ready to fight the galaxy for what he thought was right, but also used to people who cared for him being around him, even if he didn’t like it. The kid always wanted to be alone, but never got to. You know bases, no one’s ever alone, not really. He could fight, yes; he'd been studying to be a Jedi what seemed like his whole life. And then whatever happened happened and -- to dump that kind of kid, alone, with a lightsaber in the middle of the most brutal animal warfare known to space and just _leave_ him there.” He shook his head.

“If Snoke wasn’t already dead, I’d be tempted to try a run at him again.” Poe shook his head. “Maker, I hate this. When I can I go back to the bad guys just being bad guys? I want to shoot something.” And, still shaking his head, he and Finn retreated to the cockpit.

Rey read through a few more briefings on Lehon, getting a sense of what the Rakata Empire had meant to those who had lived it and those who had come after it, hungering for its power. After a few minutes, she felt the barest press of a mind against hers, the gentlest lifting of that clanged-down door. She stood, stretched, and walked to the room.

Ben was curled-up on his side, back to the door. She wanted to reach a hand out, put it on his hip, let him know he was ok. In her truest heart, she wanted to climb into the bed, pull his clothes off, pull hers of too, and press their skin together until he felt nothing but light and she felt nothing but him. But instead, she said:

“Want to talk about it?” He shook his head.

“Ok,” She said. “We don’t have to go there, you know. Rishi would be fine.” He shook his head again, rolling over carefully onto his back in the narrow space and not looking at her, hair plastered to his forehead, the skin around his eyes red from rubbing. His voice was a bit raw, but nothing like it had been the day before when he said:

“It’s the best choice. It _is_ beautiful, Rey." He said, sounding like he was trying to be fair, reasonable. "You’d like it there. The sea is so peaceful and the mountains full of incredible peaks; things to see, fruit to eat, open skies and clear water. I liked parts of it, too; really. I appreciate the history, the chance to see how others’ have conquered the core problem of how to exist within the Force. I like all of that about Lehon,” and he shivered, his voice sounding rough, pull from his chest:

"I didn't used to react this way to memories," he said, reaching his hand down for hers as she gratefully pressed her palm to his, gently easing her fingers between his, fingertips moving in little circles on the back of his hand, trying to focus him on the smallest, kindest sensations she could. "It's like, without Snoke in here," and he tapped the side of his temple with his opposite hand, "The walls I’d built up around each of the tests, the trials I fought through for him aren't there. Those walls let me conquer unconquerable things, Rey. Incredible things," and there was pride and sorrow in equal measure in his voice. "But now my boundaries are weaker than they’ve ever been. “ Another shiver, this one shaking his whole body. "I’d very much like my equilibrium back, shaky it was.”  


She tapped her finger on the back of his hand, marking the path of first one vein than the other, trying to anchor him _here_ and  _safe_.  


"We won't go there if you're going to be hurt by being there; I'm sure the others will be fine with any place with a beach." And he was shaking his head, sounding calmer, more collected.

"I was serious -- it is the best of the options. Rishi is going to be freezing this time of year -- they say 'temperate' but they mean from the context of the pole-dwelling main population." He ghosted a smile at her, and she returned it in full, glad to see some kind of color returning to his cheeks.

"Ok," she said. " I’m going to take a run at the ‘fresher,” she said, looking down at the blood stain on the knee of her tights. She gripped his palm once, and then, unable to stop herself, reached up and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. He nearly catted up into her palm, eyes closing at the sensation and she marveled at the change touch could bring. She stroked his hair back one more time and then gently pulled away, his eyes following the movement, until she tucked her traitor hands under her arms.

"'Fresher." She said, more to remind herself than him.

"You said." He half-smiled at her. She turned, feeling a flush rising up her neck at the warmth in his gaze as she gathered her things for the ‘fresher, untangling them from the wadded mess she’d left herself under the bunk. Arms clutched around a bundle of new clothes, a towel, combs and hair ties, she looked around the room, and said:  
  
“The books are in the clear-faced cabinet if you'd like to read and some broken mechanical things if you want to tool around,” she said, giving the junk back under the bed a kick in a wave at tidiness before fleeing.

—

Rey took a fast, rough-scrubbing ‘fresher cycle, knowing that she would have more than enough time to soak in the hot springs on Lehon in a few days' time. She headed back to the common area, passing Poe on his way out of the cockpit. He paused, saying:  
  
“You up for a shift? I wanted to let you rest, but if you’re up-and-about, I could use some shut-eye.”

Rey nodded, smiling. “Chewie’s co, right?” She asked, looking around for the wookie. Poe nodded:  
  
“There’s a ‘funny sound' from the engine and he’s working on it,” he said, “just holler if you need him though.” Rey nodded and sat next to Finn. He looked over at her:  
  
“How’d you sleep last night?” He asked, his eyes worried. She thought about brushing her mind against his, about sharing her comfort and the peace she felt now knowing she’d done what she had to to save Ben, that she could sleep undisturbed again for the first time in months. But then she realized that if she kept doing that, she was going to fall out of the habit of using the filter of human speech:

“I slept well. It’s good to be in-between missions,” she said, and he nodded. “Are you ok with Lehon?” 

He nodded vigorously, eyes brightening. “Yeah, rancors aside. But no place we can afford is going to be perfect, and at least we know about them. I already sent the update to HQ. It’s going to be beautiful. I didn’t include them in the presentation, but the sunsets are the most stunning things you’ve ever seen.”

Rey thought of the desert sunsets on Jakku, the bloody colors, the arcing, aching dunes, and smiled: “I can’t wait to see them.”

“And maybe,” Finn said with a teasing grin, “I can teach you how to swim.”

Rey laughed and swatted him on the shoulder. Then he looked at the chronometer and grimaced:

"It is time for me to catch some shut-eye." Then he stood, stretching the kinks out of his strong back before heading back to his room. Rey took a moment in the relative quiet to check on the course setting: they were heading toward Lehon, but not directly there; they’d be connecting with a satellite a few planets away, some kind of trading outpost to get supplies they couldn’t get on the surface. Rey hoped they had candy there, candy  _she_ could keep from the rest of them for a change.

She had a brilliant thought based on the conversation she'd overheard between Poe and Ben, and, glancing at the course setting, set the alarms to their loudest setting and sprinted back to the kitchen, opening the cabinets and levitating out the contents of the very highest shelf, a half-meter above her head, where she usually couldn't reach without climbing on the counter. She brought each of the containers down to her eye-level to inspect them: no candy in the sugar bowl (empty since Altum); not in the cake box (originally for Poe's birthday, though she may have snagged a piece a bit early) -- then, there! In a wadded-up mess of the grossest hot-sauce packets! She levitated the half-empty bag of hard candies down, then shoved her hand in, gasping a big handful and stuffing it in her pocket. Then she rushed back to the cockpit, catching Ben's surprised eye as she passed the room.

Seated again, everything fine on the navigation, Rey carefully pulled a single cherry-shaped candy out of her pocket, trying to force herself to savor it. A few minutes later, already on her third candy, teeth sticking with it while she ran her diagnostics with her other hand, she felt a presence behind her.

She tilted her head all the way back and grinned a candy red-flecked grin at Ben. He looked down at her, a hint of a smile flickering across his motile face as he held a book at his side.

"Busy?" He asked, and she shook her head, gesturing to the empty co-pilot seat.

He eased his large frame down, hands on the armrests, before he relaxed a bit, turning towards her and hooking one leg over the armrest, eyes scanning the console.

He reached out to graze a nail over one of the shinier switches: “That’s new.”

Rey groaned. “Unkar Plutt; again. Master mechanic, that Crolute was not.”

She leaned across him, arm brushing his to fiddle with it, yanking the cover far enough away from the console to see the shoddy meshing job that had been done with the wires.

“I’m not going to take this apart now, because we might explode in the cold vacuum of space,” she said, consideringly. “But when we're at the trade station, I'd love get into it, get this lady back to her rightful self. If Chewie's ok with it.” She added, carefully.

“You love this hunk of junk, don’t you?” He asked, voice sounding guarded and a little wistful. Rey nodded, eyes serious:

“It was how I got out. The first time I ever remember flying, I was at her controls,” and she patted the panel fondly. 

Ben nodded, not in agreement, but perhaps in understanding. His shields were lower now and she was getting a roiling mix of emotions about the Falcon; homesickness and pride and unfair unhappiness and brutal disappointment and loneliness and — she stepped back, giving him space to feel whatever he needed to without her reading him.

She glanced at his hands, to see them wrapped around the book Jyndan Ingo had given her. She gestured, swapping across subjects:

“You like it?” Ben nodded, opening to one of the pages she’d been reading before she fallen asleep in the med bay bed.

He read from it: “'The metal must be boiling-hot but not hotter than the surface of the pot, or it in its profusion will crack it.'” He smiled, a bit of the smirk at the edges: “Trust Hapans to use 3 words where one would do,” he said and Rey returned his smile.

“I didn’t know Hapes had its own script,” she said, reaching across to trace a fingertip over the glossy page and its indecipherable words. He nodded:

“They all speak Basic, but they have also kept their language; the state subsidizes the publication of everything from children’s books to,” and he flapped the book, “crafts guides in the local language, to keep it alive and thriving.”

She stilled the book in his hands, flipping back to the description of the scar-flaunting, metal-healed-bowl.

“I got this book on one of the prison planets we visited,” she said, tone soft, “It’s one of the other 3 Chriss planets that hold Force sensitives.” And she felt his hands harden, still in hers but someplace else too, so empty of the touch and meaning they'd shared just a moment before. She regretted bringing the prison up, reminding them both of the amputative loss of connection the ysalamiri brought.

“He’d made friends with them, the ysalamiri,” she rambled, “He was the only one in that block, had all of these books — I said I would write him; I should, once we're on the beach." 

“Who?” Ben said, trying to track what she’d been saying.

“Jyndan Ingo,” Rey said. “He’s the one who gave me that book.”

If possible, Ben became even stiller: “You met Jyndan Ingo?” He asked, voice a mix of disbelief and excitement. “How did — how did you manage that?”

Rey looked at him funny: “I just said — he was the only Force-user in the Chriss prison we visited and," she was confused by his response, saying only: "— he seemed nice.” She ended on a weak note, not sure what else Ben wanted from her. His eyes were wide, excited:

“You have no idea who he was — is — do you?” And she shook her head, fingers clenching unconsciously on the book. She’d really enjoyed those photos, the stories they told; she was hoping he wasn’t something terrible.

Ben shook his head, tracing the title: “In the Imperial Remnant, he was a ghost, a legend; one of the only ones to get off the Death Star; well, him and the unit he commanded. He had insisted on leaving the morning before the Skywalker Attack, insisted entirely based off of his intuitions and against orders.”

Ben shook his head. “Darth Vader hadn’t required screening for Force sensitivity in the ranks, but from what I've read, Ingo's connection didn't awaken until that morning, that intense sense that he needed to leave and take his team with him. He was never a terribly powerful user, but that moment of pure prophesy ensured that, after that, entire manuals were written for commanders on how to handle hunches and intuitions of their soldiers. His decision single-handedly ensured that the First Order, 30 years later, would look for bellwethers like him and try to cultivate them.”

He took a deep breath and Rey found herself half-smiling at him. He lit up when he talked about this stuff, this procedural stuff, Force-user history, even in the context of the Death Star it was somehow endearing how much he nerded out about policy. He reminded her so much of his mother right now.

"Maybe you can write him too," she said, and Ben was about to speak when a ping came across the console.

“This is the Coruscanti Bakery, how can I direct you order? Our departments include -- ” and Ben’s face was a mask of disbelief as Rey rattled off the _pastry line_ through the _cake creatives department_. Then the General’s attache broke in and said: “I’ll have the cocoa creme puffs, delivered to 1835 Barsicon Way.”

“You got it,” Rey said, punching the encryption key in on her end and the line clicked, indicating it was taking hold.

“I’ll have the General on the line in a moment —“ And Rey was drawing a breath to break in, to let the attache know who else was listening, but she was caught by Ben's wide, startled eyes, the way he unhitched his leg from the armrest, putting both feet flat on the ground, hands gripping the armrests, a flare of overwhelming feelings coming from him, too tangled-up in flashes of memories — comforting hands, crows' feet, fear, unbound hair, grim eyes, rushing into a shuttle under fire, hand-carved wooden table legs, embroidered white table cloths,  _Tales as Old as Time_ being read in a lilting voice, the cacophony of a braying laugh, an encompassing feeling of warmth and loss. The attache was still speaking:

“She had updates for you on the trial, a rendezvou request, as well as, ah, a personal matter.” Rey was able to get out — "I have —"

But the connection clicked and the attache didn't hear. Then they heard: “I have the General.”

Rey's eyes were fixed on Ben’s profile in the silence that followed as he watched at the little speaker with a naked need and loss on his face: 

“Rey, I only have a moment," the General said. Hearing her voice, Ben's face was a broken shadow, relief and pain and joy and fear all warring for territory, letting out a soft-voiced “Oh,” an expression of feeling so soft the microphone could not have picked it up. Rey was captured by how his eyes seemed brighter, lips parted like he was racing to rehearse what he would say, respond to what his mother might ask. 

The General prompted her: "I wanted to see how things are doing there.”

“Hello Ma’am, I have —“  
  
And she must have taken too long to speak, or the connection was bad, because the General was already speaking again:

“The footage of Ben coming onto the Falcon has shifted more hearts and minds than any number of your excellent text updates." Ben flinched, sitting back and Rey reached out her hand, pressing it into his arm; he felt like wood beneath her fingers. The General was still speaking: "There are some who are claiming we were faking the updates for some kind of sympathy; they were horrified to see how wrong they were. Something about seeing the pain of a person always does something to connect us to them; I have always wished that seeing others happy would do the same.“

The General took a deep breath and continued; “Finn said you and he were resting, recovering, when I last called. He said you’d healed all of Ben's injuries in one night; that must have been very difficult; Rey, are you alright?”  
  
“I am, Ma’am, thank you for asking.” Rey said, focusing on Ben's face, the waves of powerful feeling coming off of him, unable to push past them to speak. There was a pause on the line, and the General’s voice was back, a little bit quieter. “Is he — do you think —“ and a steadying breath, audible through the comm line, “Is he awake? May I speak to him?”  
  
Rey looked at Ben and he leaned towards the microphone.

“I’m here.” He said, voice cracking. There was a half-sob from across the galaxy, a fast intake of breath through clenched teeth. Rey's heart hung beside Ben's on a precipice as the General regained her composure.   


The General said: “Stars, Ben, it’s good to hear your voice.” He choked and Rey nudged her mind against his, trying to give him some of her calm; but his barriers were tightly closed again, slammed shut tighter than doors in the vacuum of space. He wanted to do this alone. She moved to get up but then his hand was on hers, fingers twining tight, digging in. She sat back, moving her other hand to cup his wrist, pressing the soft pads of her fingers agains the thin skin there, feeling his pulse thrumming under his skin, singing a song of life and light from inside the darkness of his body. His expression was a war as he tried to martial his feelings enough to speak.

The General was filling the silence: “Do you have — are you ok? Are they feeding you?” She asked and Rey looked at him. He nodded, unseen by the audio-only line. He found his voice, a rough rasp against Rey’s ears:  
  
“I am,” he said, then to Rey’s delight and wonder he said: “Dameron still hides sweets,”

And Leia _laughed_. Not the world-weary chuckle Rey had overheard a few times, not the depreciating hum Rey had heard in a few meetings. No, this was the full-on, braying-laugh Rey had heard echo through Ben's memories. Ben’s lips were quirking up slightly, running his hand back through his hair, his eyes bright with unshed tears, heart overflowing on his face, all of that pain and fear morphing in an instant to joy.

“Maker, Ben,” was all she said, continuing to laugh on the line until each breath sounded rougher than his. There was a moment of silence, like she’d pulled herself away from the microphone, and then she was back again, voice lower, more controlled, but Rey could still hear the laugh under it, undergirding the shape of her words:

“I understand from Rey that you need a few months before rejoining us at HQ. I want to see you, but knowing you are ok is enough for now.” Another deep breath, then her voice was harder still:

“I don’t want there to be pretensions between us, Ben,” the General said, “So I’ll tell you straight: things are going to be rough here. Rougher than you’ve perhaps guessed. We need to find you a lawyer, someone who can help prepare your case.” The General continued:

“I’ve arranged for your trial to take place at the same time as those who were your jailers." And Ben's hand clenched in Rey's, hard enough to make Rey tense her fingers to protect her joints. He loosened his hold with a glance of apology as the General said: "My hope is that as people learn about what you survived, they will conclude that you have suffered enough for what you did while in Snoke's thrall; or, at least, their sympathy will moderate their thirst for retribution." He looked like he wanted to argue with that summary of his behavior, but she kept on: "There is a hunger here, Ben. A hunger for revenge that I am not having much success slaking. There is someone driving it, someone pushing hard for maximum retribution and I haven't been able to suss out who it is, or what they want.”

“I wanted to save this for later, but I need us to be on the same page. I love you; I have always loved you; I will always love you. There is nothing in the galaxy that can stop me from loving every you there is in it, whoever you are and are made to be and who you yourself choose to be." A pause, and Rey's stomach dropped, sensing a turn, wishing she could stop this joy from curdling but unable to figure out how:

"But you killed people, Ben. People I cared about, people I swore to protect.” The General's voice was sad, knowing she was curt -- knowing her words were carrying the burden of pain to someone she loved, but also unwilling to lie to protect him. His face was pained as she said: “You killed  _people I loved_.” And here, her voice was so harsh, Rey felt her own heart splintering right down the middle, her own pain coming roaring back from where she'd tucked it away, felt the three of them in their own ways falling to utter and complete pieces. Rey wanted to wrap him up away from this moment, spare him for now, but also — these were words she felt in her own heart as well. She had seen no need to brandish her own pain, to weaponize it while they were both waiting to hear how he would be held to account; but that didn't mean she believed he was innocent of terrible crimes. She found herself torn, fingers interlaced with his while feeling that the words that were hurting him were true.

“No matter what, I’ll be there for you,” his mother said, her voice firm. “I’ll do what it takes to keep you safe.”

Rey nodded: "Me too."

Ben Solo began to cry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nigeria was amazing! You should go! I miss the jolof rice and my friends so much. The market in this chapter is the one I bought All The Fabric in in Abuja, with a bit of the markets in Hebron, Doha, Saida and Cairo thrown in for good measure. I love a good market.
> 
> TW: Panic attacks, mentions of domestic violence and a lot of dark thoughts. The first scene has a pretty detailed description of Ben's panic attack and generally-speaking, Ben's brain hasn't ever been the most hospitable environment and he doesn't have a lot of good ways of handling stress; he's got a lot of poison in him. I wrote his reactions a lot closer to how I've seen my family with autism handle sensory input overload than a usual trauma-related breakdown, not because I think Ben is on the spectrum, but that I think being a Force-sensitive heightens and exaggerates *everything* the way that being Autistic can. The DV warning is for someone's thoughts that Ben overhears. It's not explicit, but it could be upsetting.
> 
> I struggled with letting Rey be pissed at him and her caring for him while he's struggling, but I kept ending up at: this is Day 1 post-rescue. There will be time, like aaronBursar said, for him to be accountable. Also, I got to introduce a character that I love in here.
> 
> Last note: I learned about binary search algorithms two weeks ago and they're showing-up in here for no other reason than I am a deep-cut nerd.

Watching Ben fall apart was like watching a planet fold in on itself. It took a long time and a lot of energy to collapse something that massive and self-contained and Rey was going to be just stuck watching it happen unless she did something, no more able to hold him together here than force Starkiller base not to crumble before takeoff. No matter what she thought of his past behavior, she couldn't just watch this happen. He wasn’t making any sound, hands covering his mouth and eyes, Force-signature hurricane of pain growing more wild every second with no sign he could control it; Rey needed to get him out of here before he tore the ship down around them. So Rey set her shoulders, opened her mouth, and lied:

“General, Chewie is calling, there’s something in the engine room we need to handle. Can I call you back for the rest of the update?”  
  
The General wasn’t fooled, if her sad tone was any hint: “That’s fine Rey, go fix what needs fixing. The only other item I had for you is to expect a rendezvous at the trading post with BB-8 and someone who will be very happy to see Finn. I believe that’s all I had for you two. And Ben?”

She waited a moment, but Ben was too far gone to be able to reply, emotions whipping out around him in scarlet gales of hurt and rage and disgust and raw fear. The General continued on, her voice soft. “I meant what I said: I love you and will do anything I can to keep you safe. Talk to you soon, theesa.”

He made a sound on the last word as the transmission cut, a raw chunk of pain that cracked Rey’s heart down the middle. She yelled for Chewie:  
  
“Chewie, get in here!”

As she heard him come up the ladder, she scanned the dash, seeing they were only an hour out from the trading post. Then she knelt in the narrow space between her and Ben’s seats.

“Hey, hey,” she said softly, but he shook his head, face contorting further under his hands. She gripped his wrist, asking to see what was happening and he let through a sliver of the chaos inside his head — he was _trying_ to hold it together, _making_  himself to not strike out, not to attack the whole world with what he was feeling, _forcing_ all of that darkness driving inwards shredding him rather than their hull. She caught gashes of thoughts running wild across his mind -- he wished he could just get beaten again, like in the prison, like in the early months with Snoke, because then at least he knew he was where he was supposed to be -- he didn’t know how to be good, didn’t know how to be _worthy --_  he didn’t deserve her hand on his wrist -- didn't deserve to be out of the prison -- didn't deserve  _anything_. These were bright, sparking thoughts but the tinder under them feeding the conflagration was his rage, his ever-present, overwhelming rage. Rage that his mother would hurt him like this -- that he could still feel hurt like this after all he’d done to deaden the pain he’d felt inside his whole life -- rage at being trapped on the Falcon unable to train -- the feeling was like he had fire ants under his skin -- like he was stuck in a tin can -- stuck with _her_ , who he wanted, who he wanted to be around, but who wouldn’t be what he expected and he couldn’t _be_ what she expected. These thoughts burned and tore at him and Rey dove into the fire like she'd dove into the water so many times to get him, fighting her way through until she found the bottom of the pyre, his engorged, glowing resentment that this was all too hard, that he was made for hurting and being hurt, not surviving any of these good, normal, calm things that had been happening since he’d been freed. She felt his wanting, his urge to rip everything away just to get the familiar chaos back, to feel _normal_ for once, even if that normal hurt so much more.

This only took seconds and then Chewie was in the common room and Ben was still stifling his gasps with a broad hand, eyes screwed-up shut, other wrist in her hand. She looked up a him and said:

“Let’s get you out of here,” she said and slung his arm over her shoulder, helping him stand. His face was wet and she hunched her shoulders a little, him following her so his hair covered his face, hiding some of what was happening from Chewie as they passed him.

“Sorry, Chewie, can you take the rest of the shift? Ben needs help.”

Chewie made a worried sound, but only asked that she call out if she needed back-up. She nodded and he took the pilot’s seat.

She half-carried the much larger man as he tried to curl-in on himself, breathing erratic and heart racing wild, Force-signature snapping against hers as he kept his body passive while all he wanted to do was fight, to fight these _feelings_ , this pain _he’d_   _been promised_  would leave his life, if only he did things the way he was told. The whole way, she was running her fingers in soft lines down his side as his hand clenched a death-grip in the material of her tunic, her only indication he was aware of her, of his body at all. She got him just inside the door to the room when he collapsed against the wall, head between his knees, hand over the back of his neck, hair entirely hiding his face, her arm pressed between his back and the wall, running hot and back jerking with every fast-and-faster breath. She passed into his mind:

_How do you get out of this, when everything is too much?_

He hurled images at her — him slashing a computer console apart with his spluttering lightsaber; Force-choking a lackey until he passed out; punching, kicking, running himself into walls; hitting things likely to break his fingers. She pushed those away as dangerous, unacceptable, unsafe, and heartbreaking, and pushed him to dig deeper, to go back further. Images of  him running, running until he couldn’t breathe; sparring with someone he trusted to pull him back; not possible in this confined space and she wasn’t sure _he_ could be trusted in this state, careful as she was not to let him feel that thought.

Finally, he slipped her one — a memory from a little dark-haired boy so, so far away from the man hunching in on himself while flying to pieces in the wildest way possible. The boy had been sick and furious about being sick, getting himself more sick every day because he wouldn’t let himself heal, crying and coughing and crying in fits. He was raging, smashing his small hands into his bedspread, as his mother came-up behind him, not touching him, and sat beside him on the floor. In her hands was a thick leather book, _Tales as Old as Time_. She opened it and began to read; he swallowed down, in the belly of his rage where he couldn’t hear anything she was saying. But, gradually, the lilting words in her soft, loving voice slipped in between his tears; slowly, he could hear and, though he couldn’t catch his breath, he let himself collapse forward onto the bed, breathing hard through the comforter, breath coming back warm and oxygen-thin. She kept reading. He tipped himself onto his side, hair still hiding his face as he scrubbed it off on the soft bedding, before turning bleary eyes to his Mom. After long minutes, he crawled over towards her, moving close enough to smell her soft skin, burying his face in her hair. Her hand came up even as her voice never wavered, and caressed the skin of his cheek, motions gentle, soothing. He clambered down from the bed and crawled-up into her lap, tucking himself tight against her, face buried in her neck as her hand ran long, slow sweeps across his back, each press keeping him close and closer to her as his breathing returned to normal and she kept reading to him.

The act of striding through this memory with Rey, of seeing it unfade piece by detailed piece, smell by touch by sound, had slowed his rage to a whirlpool, but he was still circling in wide sweeps, still swallowed whole by it, if less buffeted between burning pain and sharp crags. Rey moved her hand gently up and down his side as his choked-off breaths shook him, fingers pressing the rough cloth of his shirt to his too-hot skin. At the change in pressure, a part of him passed her a question, a soft image, and she nodded. He buried himself in her lap, body still wracked with silent sobs, as she moved her hand up and down his back. The memory he had shared had gotten him part of the way, but it was too tied up in what he had lost, had thrown away with black-gloved hands, to stay with him for long; Rey didn’t know if there were going to be any other good options inside his memories. She wanted to help him find an anchor, some mechanism to pull himself back from this brink now, and later, maybe when she wasn't there to help him.

She pulled his book to her with the Force, from where it sat on the shelf. She opened it to the picture of the man of shadows against the unending stars and — snapped it closed again. She didn’t want to use this story, not right yet, not when he loved it so much and it could be tainted with this passing pain.

She bent down so only he could hear her, breath moving the hairs on his cheek: “Here’s something I learned from a cantina dancer in Niima,” she said, “Tell me 5 things you can see.”

Ben’s breath caught, and for a moment she thought he was too caught-up, too far gone to respond. But he opened his eyes a crack and passed through, still unable to speak:  
  
_Ship, bed, junk, sheet, pillow_.

“Ok,” Rey said, “4 things you can hear,” counting down on her fingers.

Another pause, then, faster, less halting: _The engine, my breathing, your breathing, your hand on my shirt_.

She nodded, his voice sounding more even in her mind. “And 3 things that are touching you, right here, right now.”

He squeezed his eyes shut again: _My shirt, the floor on my feet, your leggings on my face._  

“Ok,” Rey said, “And two things you can smell?”

This answer was quicker, more controlled: _cleaning product from the floor, grease from the door._

“Almost done,” Rey said, voice even and warm, breathing slowly matching with his, hand still moving on his back. “One thing you can taste?”

There was a twist, something guilty in his inner tone, but she wasn’t sure what it was until he said: _Candy_.

“Hah!” she said, a small smile coloring her words, “So you admit it!” And his face softened for a second, like a smile was trying to push through, before subsiding again into the miserable strain of the past few minutes.

“Let’s do it again,” she said. “Different things.”

She felt a flash of annoyance from him but outloud, he said:

“Book, floor, _my_ sheets, bunk strut, air vent,” then a deep breath, “My heart, my breathing, the HVAC system, Chewie muttering to himself,” he wiped his hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes, then said: “My pants, your hand, the air,” he settled a little more comfortably over her legs, saying: “Your soap, the oxygen mix being a bit off, and — still candy." He turned to look at her: "Do you usually have more than one taste in your mouth?”

She shook her head. “That one always got me too.” She took a breath, hand still moving on his back. “A little better?” He nodded, eyes closing again, breath regular, mind no longer raging against the bounds of his body. She continued:

“There’s a lot of techniques like that that I've heard about, each only works for some people, sometimes; but better than nothing or hurting people who don't need hurting. I don’t know how guys find out about them, but girls, girls who’ve gone through some of what we’ve gone through, usually have something like this, otherwise it’s hard to keep work if you’re a crying mess half the time.” She shook her head. “I’m still a crying mess sometimes, but I usually get to control when it happens.”

“Usually?”

She eased her fingers through his hair and his eyes drifted closed, preening up into the sensation. His skin was still warm from all of the adrenaline of the panic attack; he’d start shaking from the follow-on chills soon, but she had a minute. “You were there the last time I cried," thinking of him and the memories she couldn't stop in the med bay the day before, "But the time before that was when they took you, yanked you out of the galaxy room in here,” and she tapped her temple. “Before that — maybe hammerhead week, a few cycles ago? I saw holoplay about a droid who'd been abandoned in space after a battle and kept broadcasting its location in a dead language for centuries and I lost my shit.”

“Hammerhead week?”

“Think about it for a second, hot shot,” she said. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed a little before he nodded. She smiled and tapped him on the shoulder:

“You ok to get up? My butt’s falling asleep and you’re going to need some water, a bit of food, and a jacket.”

He scrunched his face up at her and said. “I’m fine.”

She shook her head. “If I were you, that would be the opposite of true. I’m glad it’s not utter chaos up there right now,” she said, pointing at his forehead, “But the hard stuff comes after the panic attacks, because what made that happen isn’t gone, you can just see it better now, react to it in a way _you_ control, not the other way around. With practice and some luck, you can avoid that happening most of the time. If you try to notice every time something happens, figure out what set it off, you can get fewer and fewer of them. It’s like cleaning as you cook — it's more work but over time, it's less mess. From what you showed me, a lot of your ways of handling those in the past were physical, violent, deadly to those around you. Wanting to hurt things and people is something you controlled back there and something we can figure out how to control even better. There are a lot of ways of getting violence out without hurting folks.”

"You're talking like I'm a droid, like these are just sub-routines that need re-coding, not like they're what they are, proof I'm made from and for the dark side." His voice was different when he said this, like he was repeating something he needed to believe was true, but after all this time, was still in someone else's words. _Snoke's, Luke's, Han's, someone else's words?_ Rey wondered with a chill.

She frowned, thinking about what he said. "I wasn't raised by the Jedi, wasn't raised thinking people are made for one thing or another. The kindest things in my life for a long time were droids and the most reliable were certainly machines. It's not just you I think of like that -- I think of me that way too." She shrugged, hand stilling in his hair. "I'm not trying to be insulting, but it doesn't seem to be helping you to think of stuff like panic attacks and having a temper problem are part of an unchangable destiny; it mostly seems to make you angry and miserable." She shrugged again, moving her hand. "I think being on the light side or dark side is a choice, one we both make minute-by-minute, second-by-second, and one that we can make -- or not -- anytime. So, yeah, chemical stuff like depression, like being so angry you can't breath right, like memories taking over everything, those are just things that happen to people who've been through what we've been through and we can handle them, just like we handled what happened."

He was looking at her strangely: "I've never heard someone talk about emotions like that, like a problem to fix." Rey tweaked his ear.

"You haven't met a lot of people like me."

He nodded, eyes serious.

"That is the Maker's own truth, Rey."

She shook her head, uncomfortable with the admiration in his voice: “We have a lot more in-common than you think. It’s just, my survival depended on me controlling my temper, putting-off my panic attacks, working well with people I hated, while yours required you to build your rage, channel it, and you were given a lot more space in your life to flip-out whenever you needed to. I always had to pretend to be some weak little girl to get people to leave me alone; they could never find out how much damage I could do, until it was too late. It was a tactic, as much as a mask as you wore, and for a lot of the same reasons.  The guards on Nauticus, they thought I was some passive, sweet little thing.” She cleared her throat, “That probably helped save your life, but it doesn’t make me feel good that I was so good at it.”

Ben thought for a minute, eyes scanning her face. “What do you call it when someone pretends to be sweet and naive to gain an advantage?” Ben asked, a horrible hint mischief in his eyes.

“What?” Rey asked, dreading the answer.

“Ingenue-ity.” She choked out a laugh, bending towards him, the motion bringing her face perilously close to his before she pulled herself back up, throwing her head back laughing instead, relief coursing through her veins at the feelings coming from him.

He smiled and rolled away, pulling himself to standing and reaching down to help her up. She accepted his hand gratefully, feeling it wide and warm in hers, letting him pull her close to him, not stepping back so they were standing toe-to-toe. He bent his head, his cheek going next to hers:

_I’m not quite ready to head in the common area, I think_ , he said, and she nodded, squeezing his hand.

“Sit tight,” she said, gesturing to her bed, and went to get some water pouches and snacks.

“Drink up,” she said, handing him the pouch as she yanked the warm blanket from his bed and put it over his lap. She sat next to him, palms facing up. He finished drinking and then tucked the blanket a little more closely around his hips, shivering a little.

“Why am I cold?” He asked. She rubbed his arm, handing him a bit of bread.

"It's your fight-or-flight instincts misfiring, pumping you up to fight a feeling or a memory -- something you don't need all of those chemicals to deal with, but our bodies are dumb.” She started undoing her hair, to redo it in her regular 3 buns from where it had gotten knocked askew. He was watching her carefully as she reached her hands up behind her head, pulling her first bun out. His eyes were following her hands, their careful, dexterous movements. She spoke softly, trying to project care and not judgement:

“I saw — I saw a lot of stuff, in there, when you showed me.” She moved to the second bun, his face still watchful, but none of the shame rolled across it she was worried about. “You’ve been having these for a long time?”

He nodded his head, hair falling in his face. She wanted to push, to ask more, but she could feel the pain those memories brought him and she heard herself ask: “Do you like your hair like that?”

He glanced up at her, a funny look on his face. She waved her free hand before going back to the third bun: “How your wear your hair, clothes, whatever — that’s your choice. But I realized I never offered any hair ties, and I know I hate it when my hair’s in my face if I don’t want it to be.”

He tilted his head: “I don't know — it was mostly under the helmet during the day, and I had another stuff to worry about in the prison, though there was one night, before I fell asleep, when I thought of just trying to cut it off to give them one less handhold." She winced, hand going to his shoulder. He shrugged again, not wanting to dig into it.

“You can try something else, if you want to," she said, pulling an extra hair tie from the pouch she kept on the edge of her bed. He took it, stretching it between his fingers before letting it snap back. Then he looped it around his wrist, finger-combed his hair away from his face, letting the waves settle back before wrapping the whole thing back.

“There’s a whole Alderaanian hair culture,” he said, voice considering as he finished wrapping the tie around. “Hair for courting, hair for mourning, hair for battle.”  
  
“For men and women?” Rey asked.

“There wasn’t that much of a distinction between gender roles,” Ben said in the light, academic tone he took sometimes about history. “There were different styles across genders, between couples, paired and tripled, depending on a family structure and tastes, but men had styles to match all of the things women did.”

“What does my style mean?” She asked and he glanced over her buns before smiling:

“That’s not one of the accepted styles I'd read about, but,” and he looked a question and she nodded yes before he slipped his hands behind her head, undoing the middle and bottom buns while leaving the top one high and tight, combing her hair forward over her shoulders: “This is one of the debutant styles,”

“Debutant?” She asked, cocking her head as he kept moving his fingers in her hair, untangling the gnarl left by her buns so gently she only felt a pleasant tingling in her scalp.

“A young person’s coming out party, when they’re ready to start dating?” He said, eyes on his hands. She tilted her head at him and asked:  
  
“Did you have a coming out party?”

He shook his head: “I’d never wanted one — it didn’t really fit with my becoming-a-Jedi schedule. But I’ve heard stories about the Organa traditions around them and they’re, ah, extensive,”

Rey was about to ask more when she heard the landing gear grind down, the sure sounds of the ship docking.

“Sounds like we’re here,” she said, and he nodded, face closing off a little. She stood, accepting the bands from him and pulling her hair quickly back up into her previous buns with an apologetic smile. "Guess I'm not ready to come out yet."

He looked-up at her from where he sat on the bed and she said: “I’m going to get you some boots and a real cloak, then you and I are going to get supplies for the mission."

He clenched his jaw, face moving between hope and resignation. Duty finally won out: “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be seen, out there. There are some in the First Order who know my face.”

Rey shook her head. “I’m going to get you a good cloak _with a hood_ and you’re going to get to breathe what passes for free air around here. Unless you don’t want to?” And he shook his head.  
  
“I’d love to, I haven’t been to a trading post in — ” And he shook his head, mouth twisting. She could guess who he'd last been to a trading post with.

She brushed a hand down his arm and then stood. She started to move away, but felt a tug in her heart. She turned back and wrapped him up in a tight hug, hands on his shoulders as he pressed his cheek to her stomach and he eased his big arms around her waist. Into his hair, now tied back, she said:  
  
“You’re doing so, so good; far better than I did with the time you’ve had. Day one was never going to be easy. This will get better; I promise. It’ll be tough, not linear, but I promise, it’s survivable. I believe in you.”

He didn’t say anything but pressed himself a little closer to her stomach before letting her go.

—

The trading post had about a hundred stalls, dug-in throughout an asteroid, connected by one big looping tunnel. It was a piece of a former planet with a clear a volcanic past since all of the corridors were lightly-hollowed-out lava tubes. This meant some of the shops — all located in the bubble-like spaces carved-out by the meandering rivers of lava — were grouped together, while others were alone on long, cool corridors with magmic tidelines. The biggest was the cantina, on the opposite side of the station from where the Falcon docked.

Rey had the shape of Ben’s feet measured-out on a piece of Finn’s scrap paper, his preference for _black leather, obviously_ , firmly in mind. She’d taken one of the shirts that fit him and could generally gesture far above her head for his height. It would take half-a-day for Chewie to refuel the Falcon here, so if she needed to circle back with him for another pair, it would not be the end of things. The little-used docking bay on this side of the asteroid connected to a corridor that broke into two directions: one went her way, to some of the smaller stalls and the other towards the cantina. Finn and Poe had set-off for the cantina to connect with one of the cottage caretakers from Lehon and then collect intel/get pleasantly blasted before returning to the Falcon.

Rey drew her cloak further across her face as her feet _shushed_ across the rough floor of the entirely empty corridor, every deep groove in it evidence of a place molten magma had dragged a cooler piece of rock along, scraping as it went, like the hot-hearted sister of a glacier. She used to look at rocks a lot on Jakku, thinking about how from their perspective everything that happened to her was a tiny line, a tiny fleck in their massive lives  _and_ that she could hold a million years of history in a stone the size of her balled-up fist. She liked that contrast.

She came to a small stall, all alone on a long, low-lit corridor. A sweet smell was coming from it, like an anti-freeze leak or one of those juice-pipes core-worlders preferred to regular spice. There were rows and rows of boots on shelves going all the way up to the low, dark ceiling, with closed boxes on the bottom shelves and a half-circle of wooden chests with closed lids in front of the cases. The proprietor sitting on one of the boxes, water pipe in-hand. They were a tiny, hunched being, thick grey skin in folds, coming-up no higher than Rey's waist when they stood to shake her hand with their 3 gnarled fingers.

"Hello," Rey said in Basic and the being shook their head, gesturing to a tiny, straw-sized hole where other beings had mouths. They opened their arms, pointing to different boots.

"Is it alright if I speak Basic and you gesture?" Rey asked and the being nodded enthusiastically. She unfolded the paper trace of Ben's foot and said:

"I need one pair of sturdy boots, leather, black; for work, not for show."

The being nodded and, grabbing the paper, climbed-up the central bookcase-shaped rack, balancing on shelves firmly bolted to the wall. They started in the middle of the case, compared the middle boot on the row, then moved to the middle of a case to the right, then the middle of a case between the first two. _They're doing a binary search_ , Rey realized, a grin flitting across her face. She'd never seen one implemented in real-space, only talked to BB-8 while it was doing one on a large, sorted data set. The astromech had told her it could use the algorithm to find any number in 20 guesses for in sets of just over a million. Never one to keep unnecessary secrets, BB-8 had told her the trick to knowing how many guesses it would take was the number of items, find a power of 2 that was just above it, and the exponent was the number of guesses. So if there were -- she did some quick multiplication -- there were 200 pairs of boots in the shop, so it would take the proprieter 8 guesses to find the boot closest to Ben's measurements.

Sure enough, the being came down with a pair after 8 checks.

"Thank you," Rey said, "I'm also looking for a cloak and socks."

The being conducted the same search on boxes of socks under the book cases, bringing back 3 thick, dark pairs of socks that Rey stretched between her hands, finding them sturdy but not too rough. They would wear well for many seasons. Then the being began to gesture, measure Rey for the cloak. She shook her head and brought out Ben's shirt, gesturing how tall the man she was buying for was.

The being pointed to the color of the boots and Rey replied: "Perhaps a grey, not black?" pointing to her cloak and thinking of hiding who Ben was from as many people for as long as possible.  
  
The being nodded and opened the chest in the middle. Rey thought they showed admirable discipline, always using the binary search algorithm. She would have just started in the _overlarge humanoid_ section and guessed-and-checked from there.

They came back with large, warm-looking cloak with curving white embroidery along the lapels in swirls and shapes. She pointed to it and asked:

"Is that a language?" The being nodded. "What does it mean?" The being shook their head, either because they didn't know or didn't care to try and translate something more complex than size and color using make-shift sign-language. 

Rey held it up and it gave off a gentle spicy smell, probably from the wood of the chest it was packed in. She slid her arms into it, feeling the soft fabric it was lined with -- and finding several little pockets inside the sleeves, good for knives or dice or whatever-else a smuggler might prefer not to wear openly on his person. She pulled-up the hood and found it deep, wide enough to hide even Ben's wild hair. The space around the hips was big enough to conceal a weapon -- she didn't know what had come of his lightsaber, but there might come a time when she would need to decide if she trusted him with a blaster. She pulled the cloak off and held it out, expression considering.

"How much are you thinking?" she asked.

They ended up a third lower than the initial answer. Rey felt she should have gotten half, but she had the credits to spend, thanks to the reasonable allowance Leia had allowed them in this work. 

She thanked the proprietor and turned back the way she'd come, towards the Falcon when she heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the other shops and a familiar rolling sound. She paused, wrapping the cloak and socks up in each other and stowing them under her arm, boots swinging in her hand, eyes straining in the darkness for the shape of the person and astromech approaching her. There was a pause, then around the corner whizzed BB-8, followed laughingly by a short, strong-looking woman in a flightsuit, jogging after the excitable droid who plowed into Rey's knees, whistling and beeping at her with joy and recognition. Rey knew she'd seen the woman before, recognized her from the resistance, but wasn't sure where -- BB-8 was bumping against her insistently so she squatted down, laughing gleefully as she rubbed its round white-and-orange housing as it burbled and chirruped with joy. The woman was looking down at the scene, smiling as Rey stood, a little embarrassed at her own manners.

"I never introduced myself," Rey said, suddenly remembering where she'd seen the other woman before. "I'm so glad the healing took -- I had to leave before you were able to wake-up, but I did what I could. I'm Rey."

"I'm Rose," She said, sticking out her hand. Rey gripped it and enjoyed the feeling of gripping another woman's  hard-calloused, working-worn hands. "I was told to meet you here and I hope that's the plan, since our ride left a few hours ago and this one," and she gently nudged BB-8 with the toe of her sturdy, well-scuffed workboot, "has been making an imperial pest of itself for approximately a million years." She smiled, the shape of it making her face into a beacon of warmth. "I think it missed you."

The BB-unit made a chirrup of affirmation and rolled happily over Rey's foot.

Rey shared a fond smile with the other woman. "I hadn't heard we were picking you up, but I did hear something about a rendezvous -- our last communication got a bit off track, so I think she forgot to mention it." Rose looked concerned and Rey waved her hand. "There is more than enough space and it would be nice to have another mechanic onboard. The boys, they know a lot more about breaking things than fixing them."

Rose answered her knowing smile with one of her own and then glanced down at the overlarge boots in Rey's hand.

"A little bit big for you?" She asked, gesturing at Rey's normal-sized feet and Rey froze, unsure what info Rose had, before stepping away from the proprietor and walking back down the hallway towards the Falcon. Once they were out of earshot, she said: "They're for our passenger -- where he was before, they didn't let him wear shoes."

Rose's face froze, something like distaste in her eyes, whether it was for the man or what he'd gone through or both, Rey wasn't sure. Rey pushed on, saying:

"I'll walk you to the ship? I was going to get these to him, then do the shopping for the next few months. Let me know if you have any food preferences, since I don't know how much we'll be able to eat off the land where we're heading."

Rose's eyes were cautious: "Is he -- is he on our side now?" She asked. Rey twisted her mouth, eyebrows drawing in. She spoke in a low voice, pausing in a dark bend in the empty corridor: 

"You and I don't know each other well yet, but I'll try to do with you what I try to do with most of the people I work with: I won't lie, even if it's hard and complicated to explain." She smiled a little but Rose's face was still hard, so she kept on: "I grew up without a lot of, how can I say this, human contact, so I don't have a lot of experience couching the truth to make things more comfortable, for me or anyone else. Machines, droids, ships, lightsabers -- those I get. Some people get me and I get them back. But sometimes, I can be, " and she thought, trying to find the words. Rose grinned and tapped her own chest:  
  
"A bit too direct?"

Rey nodded. Rose gave a shy smile and said: "Did Finn tell you how we met?"

Rey bit her lips and shook her head.

"I tased him," Rose said proudly, and Rey's mouth dropped open, staring down at the other women.

"He was trying to escape the _Raddus_ , he said to go and find you, but I thought he was just running away," 

Rey nodded, saying thoughtfully:  "That's something he struggles with -- the first time he ever found freedom was running away from everything he'd known, and I think that pattern stuck for a bit. But," She said, feeling like she wasn't sounding very loyal to her friend, "He always comes back. What is it the Calamari say about us humans, that we always do the right thing -- after exhausting all other options?"

Rose laughed and Rey felt something between them settle. Two girls who’d grown up on the edges of the edges of the galaxy, who’d used their hands and bravery and brawn and wits to get to the center of things, to forge a life where people looked to them as leaders and didn’t just plow over them. But with that kind of survival comes a kind of unshakable tenacity, so as they turned the final corner to the ship’s bay, Rey wasn't surprised them Rose returned to her original question. Another woman, a more touchy-feely one, not an engineer, might have put her arm around Rey’s waist, leaned in, grasped her arm; but Rose didn’t. She just said, in a low, firm voice:  
  
“The General briefed me that you have Kylo Ren onboard and that you’re the final arbiter of his treatment by the resistance for the next few months, until he’s tried for his crimes.” Rose’s eyes were serious, and Rey could see what Finn had seen in her — not just the knowledge, but the seriousness of soul necessary to do what was right, no matter the personal cost.

“I have a bone to pick with him, from his role in the subjugation of the mining colonies I called home. His Supreme Leader ordered my family bombed to test their weapons, all in the service of his vision for the galaxy." She swallowed, voice cracking. "I lost people, Rey; people I never would have survived without and who I am still not sure I can. I need you to know this because when I say what I’m about to say, it’s not coming from a light place." 

Her voice was rock: "If you think he can be turned, if you think he can help us win, do it. I’ll sit quietly these next few months; I probably won’t be talking to him or interacting with him much if I can help it. But if there’s any way he can help us end this war, end the profits for the warmongers who took apart my system ore-bucket by ore-bucket, then I’ll be there to help every step of the way.”

Rey nodded, taking the woman’s words as seriously as she’d meant them. She wanted to defend Ben, wanted to point out that as far as she could tell, he’d never given those orders, he’d had no control over most of the apparatus of the First Order; wanted to throw up a shield of all of the ways in which he’d been hurt to force him to comply, to serve an evil master.

But she didn’t. Rose would see who he was — or she wouldn’t. Rey didn’t think pretty words were going to convince her, any more so than they would have convinced her in other circumstances. She only said:  
  
“That is more than fair, Rose. I only have one request.”  
  
The other woman paused, face stern and focused before Rey continued, voice deadly serious: “If Finn, Poe, or Ben try to buy candy and hide it from me, you will tell me.”

Rose gave a startled laugh, clapping her hands as she leaned over, the laugh ripping the webs of tension that had been growing up between them, leaving the still air clear and bright. “Stars,” she gasped, looking up at Rey through her lashes: “They never told me you were funny.”

“Who’s joking?” Rey asked. “I’m as serious as sithhounds about candy. I recently found out that both Finn and Poe have been keeping cherry candy from me.” She dropped her serious expression for a moment, letting Rose see the twinkle in her eyes. "Are we in cahoots?"  


Rose grabbed her hand a shook it. "We are, sister." Rey smiled and returned her strong grip. Then they turned and walked around the final corner to the Falcon, stepping in sync, BB-8 whistling behind them.

\--

"I'm thinking, alright? I know the pawn sacrifice is obvious, but there must be another way -- " it was Ben's voice Rey heard as she and Rose climbed their way up the ramp, with Chewie's low moaning hurrying Ben on to finish his turn in holochess.

"I  _know_ I'm changing my style midway through, but there's nothing in the rules -- " a yell in Shyriiwook and then -- "Fine, fine, they're out of danger, fine, that's my move then." She heard Chewie chortle and then Rey was in the common room. Ben was sitting with his back to her, knees spread as he sat on a too-small stool so he could look closer at the holochess board, hair tied back, energy signature mostly relaxed if a little spicy with the competition. She glanced at Rose, whose eyes were wide, staring at Ben and the Wookie.

Rey said: "Finn and Poe are in the cantina, if you'd like to set your stuff down, you can bunk in the med bay. I think we'll have 3 cabins on Lehon, so you'll have your own space soon enough." Rose nodded, giving Ben a wide berth as she walked towards the med bay, BB-8 following her.

He turned around, eyes curious as Rey approached. "How's it going?" She asked and he sighed exaggeratedly.

"This one," and he gestured to the Wookie, "thinks everyone should let him win." And Chewie made a loud sound of agreement. Rey shook her head.

"I never got the hang of holochess." The wookie made a sound of disbelief and Rey handed the cloak, boots, and socks to Ben, saying: "I just don't believe anyone is a pawn. Everyone has the chance to do something bigger than the first role they're cast i;, or smaller; people don't stay the same their whole lives and the game assumes they do."

Ben was yanking on the socks, wriggling his toes in them, face bright. He pulled on the boots and sighed with a smile, beginning to lace them up.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked, and Rey shook her head.

"The allowance from the Resistance covers all of our kit and food, so you're coming out of the same budget as I am. If you want to pay someone back, it's going to be the General." Rey said. His eyes grew more serious and he nodded. She nudged his shoulder:

"Try out the cloak -- we can get a few more in the market, if it's not your style."

He unfurled it, the grey wool rolling all the way down to the floor. She expected him to throw it on, to find the little pockets, but instead laid it over the holochess game, the players dancing back out of the way and then he froze, fingers brushing over the swirling white shapes the proprietor had said were words.

He was mouthing something, clearly trying to read them, when a surprised laugh burst out of him, as Chewie stared, and then another, the chuckle coming low from his chest as Rey's toes curled in her boots and her cheeks heated up and -- she thought of the freezing ice of space, of nicking her finger on a jagged piece of metal, of a quiet, distant place -- and she met his eyes, heart calmer.

"What's so funny?" She asked and he covered his mouth, hiding his smile as he tried to get control back.

"Did whoever sold this to you tell you this was something like 'good luck' or 'long life'?" He asked, a teasing glint to his eyes. She shook her head.

He looked a little crestfallen: "Well, sometimes they do, but actually, what this says in High Galactic is:" and he traced his fingers over the swirling lines. "Broccoli beef with extra hot sauce," and down the other lapel, "Noodle soup with peppers and yam." He looked at her, smiling, and she smiled back.

He shook his head: "Good thing nearly no one speaks High Galactic anymore." And swung the cloak on. Sure enough, he found the sleeve pockets she had, along with some on the inside of the cloak, as well as places to slip currency in the lining. Chewie gestured to one loose seam and when Ben pulled at it, it unrolled into a compression bandage. He whistled:

"Very useful and the color is good -- thank you." And Rey smiled. His face dimmed as he looked over her shoulder. Rey turned to see Rose glaring at him in the doorway, arms crossed as she looked at the three of them laughing over the cloak.

"Are you all heading back out? I need to get some things at the market; I'll catch Finn after if there's still time." She said, voice severe. Rey nodded, eyes cautious. Chewie replied he was staying with the ship and Ben glanced at Rey. 

"Do you still think it's a good idea?" She brushed her mind against his, passing a reassurance through and he nodded. Out loud, she said:

"Yep."

\--

Ben stuck close to her like a tall, slightly-malevolent shadow, while Rose took the lead. The market was bustling, full of people from planets across the galaxy. Most were wearing spacer-standard greys and browns, but there were a few bright, colorful people in extravagant prints and shimmering metallics. Rey brushed her hand against Ben's back and felt --  _watchfulness -- checking the exits -- clocking the weapons_ \-- but nothing overwhelming, not yet. Maybe even a little curiosity. And under that, a deep breath of relief, an easing that came from being off the Falcon and all she represented, all she contained in her. The enclosed habitat of this asteroid had nothing on the open sky, but it was a welcome breath. She passed him a feeling of warmth which he returned cautiously, and then she said:

"Let's start with the groceries."

Rose nodded, heading to the biggest stall. There were melons, dark and ripe and Rose grabbed one immediately; juices from a dozen worlds in everlasting bottles; soaps, sunscreens, hair products she saw Ben eyeing carefully; tins and tins of canned goods that would last them for months. She picked-up a basket and handed one to Ben, tossing things between them indiscriminately while Rose headed over to the hardware section. Rey noticed Ben wasn't picking anything for himself, and so in a low tone she said:

"We've got credits to spare -- what do you want to eat?" His shoulders shrugged and she stopped, looking up under his hood. His eyes were a bit wide, darting to the exits, watching everyone. 

He answered her questioning stare. "The Knights and I subsisted on protein mixes; before that, it was whatever the older ones made or what was in the caf. I've never --" and he looked around pointedly at the market. Rey felt her heart breaking a little, but she looked around before she found a sample plate of different fruits.

"Here," she said, popping a bit of bitter-berry onto one of the sample sticks: "Try this."

Ben narrowed his eyes but took it from her, his face screwing-up comically at the taste. He shook his head. She smiled: "No, me neither, but at least now we know. How about --" and she grabbed the sweetest one, a pink berry with white speckles.

"Do you like this one?" He asked, now suspicious. Rey nodded. He tried it and closed his eyes as he chewed.

"Not bad," he said, but there was an appreciation in his eyes that hadn't been there before. They stocked-up on what he liked and set aside what he didn't, from the softer breads to the tougher jerkies. Rey found they differed in how much spice they liked -- he barely liked pepper but she'd grown up with spicy sauces hiding the age of meat and rarely ate anything without a little bit of kick to it. The sauces Poe kept stockpiling were just too, too sweet for her liking. That reminded her:

"Candy!" She cried, turning to an aisle of baskets with a swarming rainbow of colors of candy. She picked one of each, there being no samples, and figured they could have a tasting party if she was feeling generous-enough to share. Ben sighed throughout this, but she caught him putting a few extra caramels in his basket and smiled.

They caught-up with Rose, whose basket had bare essentials plus a range of nuts, bolts, and connectors that Rey was sure would come-in handy on the Falcon.

"Got everything?" She asked and Rose nodded, seeming more at-home with tools in her basket.

Rose glanced at their baskets, confused, and said: "Let's get a bunch of ration packs too, most of that will be bad in a week."

Rey glanced down and realized she hadn't actually gotten to the unspoilable section, she'd been having too much fun exploring fruits and sweets with Ben. Chastened, they returned to the dry goods aisle and picked-up a month's supply of different protein packs and insta-breads, Rey carefully avoiding the brand she'd eaten so much of on Jakku and Ben taking her lead.

"Anything else?" She asked. Ben glanced towards a red-haired woman perusing the soaps and make-up aisle before shaking his head. Confused, she reached out to touch his wrist to ask to see what was up, but he pulled away, backing towards one of the shelf-covered walls, startled shoppers skittering back out of his way. Rey followed him, trying to see his face, trying to figure out what was going on. He kept his hood low, careful of the security cameras. She asked, feeling Rose's hard eyes on her back:

"You ok?" And he shook his head once, hard, _No_.

She nodded, biting her lip: "Do we have time to check-out?" And he nodded _Yes_. She could see him holding out his hand, counting down from 5, glancing around the room. She grabbed his basket and turned to Rose, shoving credits into her startled hands. 

"Can you check us out? I'll meet you there."

Rose's face was a frown of confusion, eyes glancing back to Ben's frozen form, but she nodded, not wanting to attract any more attention than they already had. "No problem."

Rey nodded with a quick smile and turned back to Ben. She walked towards him slowly, hands open. He had one finger out --  _taste_.

She said: "I see hair product, berries, fruit, shelves, soap, and a grey cloak with a joke written on it. What did you see?"

He shook his head; now she was focusing on him, she could sense his Force-signature was a writhing mess. Something had gotten under his skin, and quick. She reached out again, this time clearly aiming for the cloth of his sleeve, and he didn't shy away.

"Ben, talk to me. Maybe I can help."

His voice was a whisper, frustrated: "I don't know what it is, but my shields are shit right now. I can hear everything and the woman over there is being hurt and I don't want you to see it _too_ and I don't know what to --" He took a deep breath. "I saw her getting beaten, a memory, a  <em>recent</em> one, like last night-recent, and she's still thinking about it and the memory of it is  _so alive_ and I don't know how to block it out. This didn't used to --"

And Rey nodded, glancing at the soaps and make-up aisle. The red-haired woman was moving stiffly, keeping her head down, riffling through what looked like bargain concealer.

"Let's try something, to get you some space." Rey said, moving away from him, drawing down her hood and stepping-up beside the woman. She glanced over, seeing a palms' width bruise across the woman's upper-arm. She snagged a hair product box,  _for thick and shiny waves_ and turned to the woman, voice low.

"I've had bruises like that before," she said, voice completely neutral. "And someone gave me a bit of help, not a lot, but enough to make my own choices for a while." The woman was puffing up, looking defensive, a thin hand shaking as she covered the bruise with a glare, but Rey just thrust out enough credits for a few nights at a hotel or a ticket off this rock. "When you're out and ok again, pass this on to someone else. You deserve to be safe."

And then she turned her back and walked away, heading towards Ben and his wide, watching eyes.

"What's she doing?" Rey asked under her breath when she was close enough, not wanting to look back.

"She put the concealer back." He said, eyes following her. "She put the money in an inner pocket and is moving out -- toward the cantina." He looked at her. "She's thinking about where she can get a ride to, if there's work in another system. She's not thinking about the beating any more."

Rey nodded, looking at the box in her hand. "Did you still want to get some hair stuff?" And Ben looked at her, flabbergasted.

"That was it? You can just do that?"

And Rey shook her head, tugging his sleeve over to the soap aisle and showing him the options other than the box she'd picked-out. 

"You and I had very different childhoods," she said to the soaps, not looking up, voice quiet. "You like policies and system-wide changes. Big policies matter, big movements matter; sure. But a lot of problems that women face can be solved with a little bit of money that they can spend however they need to. People who are rich don't realize how thin a thread most of the galaxy is using to tie their souls to their bodies, and a few credits this or that way is the difference between getting hit and getting free. You can build huge charities and have massive public campaigns about it, but in my experience, you'd probably get more done if you just shifted a few credits to the people who know best to use them."

She shook her head. "We won't be able to fix a lot of things this way, obviously, and maybe she actually won't leave. Most women don't for the first 7 times. But maybe this was her 7th. And it didn't hurt us any to help."

"Exactly how much money do we have to work with?" Ben asked, eyes speculative as Rey put her hood back up. He grabbed a second box of the one Rey had picked-out, and some larger hair ties.

"Well, what I gave her would cover a few hours of fuel for the Falcon, but since we got an entire tank full a few days ago from some grateful villagers, we're pretty flush by my standards. Is there something else you think we need?" And Ben glanced over to another stall across the way. Rey couldn't see what they were selling, so she moved towards the check-out, getting the hair stuff onto the line right before Rose's last wrench went under the scanning droid.

"All good?" Rose said, eyes fixed on Ben's hood.

He replied: "Yeah. Sorry about that."

Rose's eyes widened, shoulders stiffening at his voice before turning back to the droid and feeding in the credits. The supplies filled-up two large bags, going into the locked container of a transport droid. They gave it their berth number and it ground off, grumpily buzzing and beeping through the crowd. Rey began to walk towards the stall Ben had pointed out, him close to her shoulder and Rose trailing behind. The crowd was thinner near this stall, and when she got there, Rey could see why.

It was a bookshop.

Rey stepped inside and immediately the smells reminded her of Jyndan Ingo's cell: dry paper, colored-ink, the rustle of pages just audible over the low hum of the crowd in the broader market. Here, the volcanic walls had sturdy bookcases bolted to them, books and magazines everywhere. Ben drifted deeper into the shop, sliding his finger down the gold-embossed titles, body relaxed, Force-signature the calmest and most focused Rey had seen it since the conversation with the General. A tall, thin Twi'lek woman approached them with the air of the owner.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" she asked and Rey glanced at Ben before saying:

"Do you have anything on Alderaanian hair customs?" Rey plucked a topic from thin-air to keep her from pulling Ben out of his commune with the tomes. 

"That's a pretty narrow category, but let's see what I can do," the woman said, hips swaying as she moved over to a dusty computer. Rose had wandered over to the magazine section, specifically the mechanics' mags, and Ben was still engrossed in the history section, hands reverent on the spines of the books he pulled out.

"Nothing on just that," the owner said, bending over the computer, "But I do have one on their culture in general, with a sub-section on hair; will that work for you?"

"Sure," Rey replied, eyes on Ben as she moved across the shop. He was leaning a shoulder against the bookcase, book so close to his face in the dim light a stiff breeze would have brushed the pages against his nose. The owner pulled down a book from the shelf behind him and handed it to Rey before moving off to another customer. Rey looked around in that section, pulling down a history of Alderaan's royal families and another on the history of Naboo. She tucked the books under her arms and returned to Ben.

"Hey," she said, and he startled, not like he was panicking, but like he'd forgotten the world outside existed for a moment. He reached out a hand and gripped her wrist: "These are amazing," he said, voice fierce. "They have all of the battle histories of the Ratakan empire, translated into Basic." He held the books to his chest. "They're recent -- the translations were finished just in the past few years, long after -- " And here he ground to a halt, but Rey was already smiling.

"Let's see if Rose found anything she wants." And they turned, wandering through the aisles in the deceptively-small store until they found her towards the back, an open cookbook on her knee.

"Want to get that?" Rey asked, and Rose nodded and stood, snapping the book shut.

"Do we need anything else before planetfall?" Rose asked as they moved towards the register droid.

Rey thought about it for a moment and then shook her head.

"I think this is enough."

She picked-up a stack of paper and envelopes so she could write to Jyndan, then paid for everything. The most of expensive thing in the pile turned-out to be Rose's cookbook, glossy pictures costing extra or something, but it was all still within budget. Then they headed back to the Falcon, hoods up and walking closer together than when they'd entered.

\--

When they got back to the Falcon, Poe and Finn were already there, lightly buzzed and full of details of Lehon. Rey was first up the ramp and Finn began gushing about the pink drink he'd had, the hue of it still coloring his teeth, the two men surrounded by bags of groceries they hadn't put away as BB-8 hummed contentedly at Poe's feet. Then came Ben, and Finn fell silent, Poe's voice too-loud to make up for it as they watched him take his bag of books to the room. Then Rose's head popped-up and Finn nearly fell off his seat.

"Rose?" he shouted, stumbling over himself to dive towards her. She was grinning, opening her arms, but then there was a flash of worry across Finn's face and he slowed his roll, extended a hand for a handshake instead. Rose's face fell, but she shook his hand with both of hers, firm and friendly, then nodded to Poe and headed towards the med bay.

Poe, either oblivious or ignoring the awkward moment, clapped his hands and said: "Are we ready to go to Lehon?"

\--

The trip out was uneventful and the planet a stunning turquoise and verdant green as they entered its atmosphere. The ocean rose-up azure and proud and the cottages gleamed orange on the pale white sand. The landing-gear made contact and Poe turned to Rey in the co-pilot's seat and said: "We made it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: for a reference to past sexual assaults, prisoner abuse, Snoke being awful. If I’m missing a tag please please let me know!
> 
> This is what I’ve been calling my Anime Beach Episode chapter, so it’s like 85% fluff. Enjoy and comments/kudos are amazing motivation to keep to my weekend posting schedule!

The sky was a perfect blue as Rey and Ben walked off the Falcon, dark boots sinking into the fine white sand with the weight of the packs on their backs. There was a pale Harmattan haze coming over the mountains, the sun a few hours from setting.

She basked in the heat of the low sun, turning her arms in the sun, watching the rays and shadows move across them. Glancing at Ben, she said softly: "At least it's warmer than Ahch-To."

He was looking around too, eyes on the trees, but he gave a slight nod. He moved a little closer to her, eyes still on the forest, and the back of his hand connected with hers. She slipped her fingers between his and felt him sigh a little; she could feel it too, the low thrum between the places where their skin touched. She hefted her bags over her shoulder and tugged his hand, pulling him to keep pace as they walked towards their home for the next two months.

Chewie planned to head-out before dinner, the General giving him time to grieve and rebuild as well. Finn had given Rey the keys to their cottage, which she'd promptly tossed to Ben so when they reached the door, he was the one who opened it, Rey following behind and leaving it wide open.

The cottage was musty, closed-up between cleaning visits. They walked down the long white central hallway, with two bedrooms on the left and the master at the end, the kitchen and living-room at the right. Rey could begin to see the shape of the coming months: mornings filled with sunlight, practicing forms outside on the sand, learning to swim in the lagoon she'd seen peaking out at the edge of the cove; meals as a group; exploring the forests -- keeping an eye out for rancors; evenings in the hotsprings or cooking over the fire. 

It felt like something from a holoplay, all of this time just to get themselves ready for the next thing. She felt a little guilty, that things could be so easy for her at this moment, that things could go so well after so much had gone wrong; but then she glanced at Ben, watching his serious face as he carefully checked each room, opening all the closets with his shoulders readying for an attack; and she remembered that this break wasn't just for her. Thinking about it, two months didn't seem like enough time to give someone to reshape his entire life.

Rey hefted her bag on the comfy-looking white couch tucked under the huge window and went from room to room, opening every window and letting the breeze flow through. There were screens on the windows to keep out the bugs and let the air through. The two bedrooms on the hallway shared a wall and were set-up with Queen beds as mirror images of each other, low couches tucked into the corner and a small shelf for books or knick-knacks. With the windows open, the smell of the sea and the low-stirring sound of the trees began to replace the prior fug. If it brought a bit of sand, that wouldn't be that much of a change for Rey and well worth it for both of them to feel so free.

Rey wandered back to find Ben back in the living room, unpacking his newly acquired books and arranging them on a shelf. Rey grabbed the paper and envelopes he'd carried in and bumped his shoulder. He glanced at her, hands on the book on Alderaan culture she'd bought, eying the couch, and she said:

"I'm going to get a second load," she said and he waved her away, tucking his overlarge self onto the normal-sized couch and settling-in to read with a good view of the endless ocean horizon. She walked out onto the sand, a warm wind blowing sand into her bare upper-arms. The distance to the Falcon was only a dozen meters, but in that space she felt her strides shift, change, sloping into her long-legged Jakku-dune walk.

She glanced at the water again -- the tidelines weren't too high, this planet's satellite a gentle minder compared to Nauticus's. The waves were not much more than hip-high, much more manageable than than Ahch-To's wild currents. She wondered how the ysalamiri had fared in the open ocean, whether they had found a good place to live undisturbed after the storm. She hoped they had.

That brought her back to Jyndan Ingo and the letter she had been planning. Rey had been thinking about what the General had said, about Ben needing a good lawyer; maybe she should ask the General's advice before reaching out, but she wasn't sure what to say to the older woman right now.  She passed Finn and Poe with their rucksacks on the way up the ramp, letting them know Ben was settling in and she would be back out in a bit, she had something to do on the Falcon. Finn nodded, eyes curious, but let her go unquestioned, eyes watching for Rose to join them. Chewie was banging around and yelling at the engine.

Rey reached her room and, without thinking too hard about it, let herself climb onto the top-bunk. It was stripped-down, like hers, but there was still a sense of Ben here, something of his smell, and she leaned into it as she relaxed against the bulkhead. She took a breath and began to write, stomach twisting as she tried to get the words down right:

 

> Dear Jyndan Ingo,
> 
> When we met at the prison on Altum, you told me about the kintsugi. You told me that broken things may be mended but their cracks should not be hidden. I have been thinking a lot about that, and about the thousands of formerly-imprisoned Chriss whose lives you saved arguing before their high court since we last spoke. I’ve traced the pictures of broken pottery healed with veins of gold in the book you gave me a hundred times as I wrote this letter in my mind, but now I come to put it on paper, I find myself unsure where to start.
> 
> I hope you are safe there on Naka-Daka, with the ysalamiri and your books. Perhaps you are content there. I hope that you are not, because I need to ask you to do something brave.
> 
> Ben Solo will be tried for his crimes in two months’ time by a resistance court and I want you consider representing him. You may know him only by a reputation I cannot defend, except to say that I have come to enough peace with it to have come to your cell for your help and to be writing you this letter. 
> 
> I have no idea his chances of winning; nor do I know if he should win. He — like you — like me — has done terrible things. He, unlike me, has been punished brutally for what he has done. This trial will be about what is enough, not necessarily who is guilty. That is the question of justice I believe you could answer, help a jury answer, in such a way as to save Ben’s life.  I believe he deserves to be saved. I know there are many who disagree and have their own scars as evidence. I believe you have a shared experience with him, a shared understanding of the Chriss justice system, perhaps at one point even shared a worldview; but your connection to the Force and commitment to justice would, I hope, be enough to allow you to speak truly and effectively on his behalf.
> 
> I can't promise he'll cooperate or welcome your help. There wouldn't be a lot of comfort or kindness if you choose to represent him and I can't say your client is a kind man or always easy to get along with (though he is always trying; he is always working, I can promise you that). There is darkness in him, as much as there was in the men you worked with in your youth; though I seem to find less and less of that every day he is free. I don’t think he will ever be entirely light, though I hold out hope; he has surprised me before.
> 
> Ben Solo is rebuilding himself from shattered pieces every day. In a way, I feel I am betraying him in writing this without his knowledge. But I don't want to get his hopes up without knowing your answer. So, please, meet with him, decide for yourself if his is a case you can take and win. Because his life may depend on your choice.
> 
> To the Chriss officials reading this, I ask that, if he accepts it, you allow Jyndan Ingo to take this case, as partial repayment for the brutality your officers visited on Ben Solo while he was in your custody. I know that you value justice and I believe Mr Ingo’s help will ensure justice is done in this case.
> 
> In hope,
> 
> Rey

Rey read the letter over, then once again, then sealed it in the envelope, wrote  _Jyndan Ingo_ on the front, and began working her way down to the engine room to hand it to Chewie.

\--

The next load Rey took down to the beach was a massive pack of food, everything left in the Falcon that Finn, Rose, and Poe hadn't grabbed already. She took it to the largest cottage, the one where Rose would be staying alone. 

Before they landed, Rose had gotten first draw when and claimed the biggest; Rey could respect a woman who took what she wanted. This cottage had a huge bay window looking out over the surf, walls of white with warm brown wood pillars and a high, slanted roof over a living room separated from the kitchen only by a teal tile bar. Its massive kitchen had tall, deep-blue cabinets and a teal bar. Rey heard slightly crunchy footsteps in the hallway -- there was a fine coating of sand on everything in this cottage -- and turned to see Rose returning from setting her things away, eyes wide and roving around the room.

Rey gestured to the cabinets stretching high up to the arching ceiling.

"Can we agree to only put food where you and I can get it, without having to climb on the counters?" she asked and Rose nodded, grinning.

"No tall-person discrimination here," she said, dropping her pack on the couch with a soft thud. She began unpacking cans and cans of food onto the island, so when she spoke, it was to the soft under-beat of tin on ceramic.

"You were holding his hand." Rey turned her head to the other woman, eyes careful, before saying: 

"Yes."

Rose turned and narrowed her eyes, hands pressing the tins into the counter: "I don't get it," she said.

Rey shrugged, keeping her voice light: "There's not much of an 'it' to get. I've held Finn's hand and Chewie gives great hugs." She moved another few cans into the cabinet, keeping her eyes on her work.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rose shake her head. "That different and you know it." She took a moment then continued, voice serious, tactical, like this was a war game meeting: 

"I was concerned, about not having him restrained on the ship," and Rey froze, thinking of Ben, arms cuffed his back, Captain Jerush's fist in his thick hair, pulling his head back, neck exposed as he was being kicked. Her blood ran like ice but Rose was still speaking: "But then I realized -- your hand in his: no better handcuff than that."

And Rey doubled over as a wave of nausea hit her, thinking of her hands being held out, away from her, the sensation so pure, so raw, she bit her tongue to keep her stomach down. _In through your nose, out through your mouth_ came a voice that might have been hers, might have been Ben's, as he felt the storm surge of her pain and untangled himself from a quick on their couch, not running, knowing she could handle herself, but wanting to check on her. She warned him off, and he paused, halfway out of their cottage.

Rose was hovering over her, hands fluttering. "Rey, Rey, are you ok? Is it something you ate?"

And Rey shook her head, trying to decide through the nausea and the coming shakes what she would say. Rey's voice when it came out was flat, hard, but clear, and unbroken by tears:

"I had an, an experience, back on Jakku, where I was, held down, with hands, that someone else thought were welcome," she gritted out and something like realization rose in Rose's face like a drowning tide.

"I would _never_ ," she heard herself say, voice harsh and emotions flaring, a kick of sand fluttering-up around her knees, levitating, tiny particles whipping in a whirlwind, stinging against their ankles like sand flies. 

Then Rey took a breath and the sand settled back to the ground, making incomprehensible shapes where it had been disturbed.  Rose had taken a step back, her hands up. Rey heard a calmer version of her voice continue:

"I would never, _never_  hold someone down like that. If Ben goes bad, goes wrong, it won't be because he wanted something from me he wasn't getting; if he stays good it won't be because I'm holding some kind of future happiness over his head. I'm not, tactical in what I feel. I feel what I feel. I can hide it, hurt it, keep it away; but it keeps coming back true. No matter for who or if they even care about me," she took a breath. "Ben's future will come from him.  I'm not trying to trick Ben into the light side or seduce Kylo Ren. I'm just trying to be his friend as he tries to get better." Her voice got softer. "And he is trying. He is getting better. And maybe you can't see that --"

Rose was shaking her head, "I see it, I just -- I thought this was an assignment, for you. I thought Leia had --"

And Rey laughed, nothing in the sound kind or generous, "The General didn't think he could be saved. I _pushed_ for this mission because I believed -- I  _believe_ \-- it will help. Because I believe he should have a chance to atone, if he can."

There was quiet for a moment as Rey turned back to the cabinet, picking-up another can, twisting it in her hands -- canned greens -- before setting it on the shelf. Rose stepped back to the counter again, and for a minute it was quiet, only the sound of the waves, the cans on the counter, and the two women's breaths filling the air. Rose's voice was softer, gentler when she said:

"He's, different than I expected." 

"Hmm?" Rey asked, moving to give Rose space. Rose opened another cabinet, carefully lining-up the fruits and veggies on one side, the insta-breads on the other.

Then Rose asked: "Has his face always looked like that?" 

Rey froze, wondering what she was asking about, still feeling thready, jumbled. Ben's face had always been soft towards her, even in circumstances she didn't want to think about right now. She decided to answer with facts:

"I gave him that scar on Starkiller base. He was trying to kill Finn, after he killed his father," and Rose made a small sound, maybe surprised that Rey would talk about Ben's past that matter-of-factly; maybe because she didn't know what he'd nearly done to Finn; maybe it was at the continued hardness in Rey's voice; she didn't know.

"That's not what I mean --" Rose started, but Rey turned towards her to get another armful of goods, continuing:

"He's a lot thinner than he used to be; in the prison, where he was being kept, they didn't seem to feed him on any kind of a schedule. Perhaps they thought it would make him weaker, but my understanding is being starved was something he'd gone through before, as part of his apprenticeship to Snoke." Rey shook her head. 

"There's a lot of stuff that was done to him in the prison that he'd gone through before, which is one of the reasons he's handling all of this so much better than I would have -- or, frankly, than I did."

Rose shook her head again: "It's not that either. Look, I'd never seen him before yesterday -- outside of the mask and the cape in the holovids -- but they made him look, so," and she waved her hands at the canned pineapples before Rey interupted:

"Brutal?" Rey nodded to herself.  "He can be," she said. "When we fought on the _Finalizer_ , after he killed Snoke to save my life," and a little gasp from Rose here confirmed what Rey thought, that _that_ story hadn't made the rounds in the resistance yet. Trust the gossip-machine that was a resistance base to fail on the one good point about Ben's character. She continued:

"He _was_ brutal. He threw one of Snoke's Praetorian guard into a laser woodchipper and his fighting style," Rey waved her fingers in a mimick of the wild, unbalanced swings and savage force he favored: "It was like fighting back-to-back with an oncoming storm."

Rose looked thoughtful. "But the fight on the _Finalizer_ , that was before Crait, right?" 

And Rey nodded, eyes going distant as she looked out the bay window and towards the sea:  "After he killed Snoke, after he killed his guards, he asked me to join him." She said in a small voice, filling-in a blank not even Finn knew about. "He thought we were fighting together to end the conflict, while I was trying to save the fleet, to save the resistance. I said no, begged him not to go that way. He didn't listen. He tried to take my lightsaber. I was stronger in the Force than him and the blast when he broke it knocked him out." Rey patted the repaired lightsaber on her hip. "Leaving him there, surrounded by the blood and guts of people he'd trained with, inches from a master who I now know brainwashed and tortured him since he was a little boy, feels like the cruelest thing I have ever done." She opened another cabinet and moved spices into it, feeling Rose's strong gaze on the side of her face.

"But, at the time, all I knew was that I had to save the fleet, to save the resistance. All I knew was that the path he wanted to walk down was one I could not follow." She hit her fist against the counter, a note of frustration coming into her voice:

"If I'd just kriffing  _taken_ him, hauled him into Snoke's escape shuttle, Force-stunned him and just _taken_ him someplace, destroyed the ship so he couldn't get away, set-up a pick-up for a few months down the line, _no one would have died on Crait_. Luke would be alive, the Resistance wouldn't have lost all of those soldiers, and Ben," and her voice cracked a little as she tried to explain, Rose's face a mask of sympathy and concern, "He would have been pissed, sure. But I _could have turned him,_ if I had given myself the time. I could have kept him out of the fight, kept all of those people alive." And here her voice was tiny, pained, and she felt Rose's hand on her shoulder, a warm, comforting grip, "And he wouldn't have been sliced-on and burned and beaten and tortured for months," she took a deep breath. "If I had only done something different, right now he'd been ok and --"

"And that's banthashit," said a voice from the entrance to the kitchen. Ben was leaning against the doorway, massive hands peeling an orange, eyes watching as he worked his thumb between the pith and the bright flesh of the fruit.

"There's no way you could have kept me away from the fight, Rey; not as I was." He shook his head, pulling off another section of peel, opening it up like a flower. "Not least because I had a tracker on me that my Knights would have known to look for. They would have come to collect me, no matter where in the galaxy you took me." He shrugged, stepping into the kitchen and looking for a garbage can, bending his massive frame down to open the doors under the sink before tossing the skin in.

"It would have been 9 against 1, 10 if I didn't have my head on straight." He shook his head, eyes serious.  "There's no point in blaming yourself for Crait. Like I told you on the island, I thought the resistance had let my mother die. I thought everyone had abandoned her and you'd escaped; I'd thought there was nothing good left there, just like there was nothing good left in the shell of the old Empire. When I said we had to kill the past, it was because I thought everything worthwhile about the past, about _my_ past, had already died."

Rose's voice was harsh: "You were wrong." 

He looked at her, dark eyes searching, before nodding.

"I was wrong." He agreed. He glanced up at Rey, before his eyes drifted back out over to the sea, face calm: "You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened. The guards who did what they did; they'll be tried. I'll be tried for what I did. Hux, the Knights, the rest of them, they'll be tried or killed." He began sectioning the orange, keeping the dry inner skin intact as he pulled it apart. "We have a few months here, to recover, to rebuild; whatever we need to do. That's not going to work if you're ripping yourself up inside for doing the best you could with what you knew at the time." He pushed a feeling of warmth, of affection towards Rey so strong she flushed from it.

"Orange?" He asked, holding them out between them. Rose shook her head, but Rey took a piece, popping it into her mouth and closing her eyes as the sweet-sour flavor popped across her tongue. When she opened them, he was watching her, gaze warm and intense.  Rose's expression was watchful, worried.

"Want to help us put away the groceries?" Rey asked, making her tone light, then wagged her finger: "No putting anything higher than we can reach. We can't all be overgrown trees."

He shook his head: "Chewie came by, asked for help getting some remaining sea-gunk off of the landing struts, leftover from our daring escape from Nauticus. I'm afraid it'll be too high-up for you two to handle." And he ducked out of the kitchen before Rey could throw a piece of orange at him.

Once his footsteps had left the hallway and moved to the silence of the sand, Rose turned to Rey and said:

"Honest. That's what I meant when I asked. His face is honest. I didn't think it would be like that, with the General for a Mom and Han Solo for a Dad. But he can't keep what he's feeling off of it, can he?" Rey shook her head and turned back to the counter, moving the cans around aimlessly. She answered:

"He can lie with his face, when someone else's life depends on it," Rey thought back: "When we were in Snoke's chambers, there was a moment when," and she swallowed, taking in a deep breath, "When he was torturing me, when Snoke was torturing me; and Ben face," she shook her head. "I think the only thing that kept him from charging Snoke then and there was that he'd tried that, a dozen times before, and gotten shot-down. He doesn't always learn fast, that one, but when he does, he learns well." She brushed a piece of loose hair back behind her ear, tucking the end of it into one of the buns, and said: 

"I'd had a vision through the Force before I boarded the ship, that he would turn, but even as I acted on it, I wasn't sure if I believed it. But after I told Snoke that he'd underestimated me and Luke and Ben and Snoke had me in the air, hurting me, making me feeling -- nothing good, that's for sure. I got a look at Ben's face and it showed nothing though I could feel him fighting with everything not to fight back. He  _needed_ to fight back, to fight for me, because even though all the shitty ideologies and brainwashing and ego-stroking banthashit the First Order had been pouring down his throat since I was 15, he still knew what Snoke was doing was wrong. Can you imagine, carrying that kind of conviction, under that kind of pressure? It was in that moment that I knew truer than any vision could tell me, that, sooner or later, he wasn't meant for the dark side. He'd make a choice for the light, when he needed to." Rey rubbed her face, feeling coming back to her cheeks with the taste of oranges.

"Maybe I'll stop blaming myself for what happened, but it won't stop me wishing he'd chosen to come with me in the throneroom, chosen the side of the light at that very moment, before all of those lives were lost on Crait, before we lost Luke, before he spent months being ripped to pieces."

Rose shuddered and nodded. "I wish a lot of things about the past were different too, but I also believe in fixing what's in front of me." She looked at the cans in her hands. "Right now, that looks like pasta and sauce. Do you think," and her voice got a little softer, "Do you think Finn likes pasta?"

Rey turned to the other woman, seeing a blush creeping up her neck, and said: "I think he would, if you cooked it. And so would Poe, once he got used to the idea."

Rose nodded, moving to the pots and pans, Rey moving to help.

\--

Hours later, everything was packed-away. They'd said goodbye to Chewie, the wookie giving Ben a long, grappling hug that dwarfed the large man, leaving his eyes soft and their ears ringing with Chewie's shouted words of farewell. 

The communications equipment was in Rey and Ben's cottage so she could do the daily check-ins (That day's read: _Landed on Lehon, cottages fine, everyone fine, Rose and BB-8 with us)_. Dinner was hot and filling, Poe and Finn complimenting Rose over and over on her spices while Ben ate twice as many canned biscuits as anyone else, telling the disbelieving Rey that it was his first time having them. Rey, for her part, drenched her biscuits in honey, explaining that the purpose of biscuits (and tea, and, she insisted despite Finn's horror, ice cream) was to convey honey. Rey and Rose made Finn and Poe do the dishes while Ben handled the drying and BB-8 did his best to be underfoot.

Over dinner, there was a tense moment Ben asked Finn to pass the salt and Finn didn't hear him over a story Poe was telling, but then Rey just levitated it over, catching the entire table's attention for a moment. Then Poe said:

"Isn't that cheating?"

And everyone broke into an argument about when people should use the Force, the tension snapped, Ben's eyes crinkling at her when she smiled over the table at him.

Hours later, they were all stumbling in the darkness back to their respective cottages. Rey felt lighter than she had in months. She could feel Ben getting the same airiness, the same sun-touched feeling, his feelings lapping against hers easily. They left the door to their cottage open and didn't bother with the lights, kicking off their boots at the door. They walked down the hallway side-by-side, the feeling of the evening's laughter humming between them. They reached his door and stopped:

"Good night," Rey said, a smile gracing her lips.

"Good night, Rey," Ben said, eyes catching a hint of starlight, grey curves of them so, so close. Rey sucked in a breath and blanked her mind before she ducked her head and stepped into him, arms winding around him for a hug. He felt so warm and solid, so huge and safe and there. His arms wound around her back fiercely, and she felt good memories from the day slipping from his mind like curls of steam off a simmering pot: her smiling across the table from him; the feeling of a hot, filling meal in his belly; stars he knew above him; the roar of the sea reminding him of the better nights in their shared vision of Ahch-To. She shared hers back: the fun of seeing him arrange his books just so; the cheeky look he'd given her before shirking grocery-duty; his arm across the back of her chair during dessert.

"See you in the morning," she said to his broad chest, and he nodded, his hand tracing a line of heat down her spine. She pulled back, his hands gentle on her arms. And then took one step further back and went to bed.

\--

The walls of their cottage weren't thick. She could hear him getting ready, the slump of his clothes being heaped on the floor, the ripple of a zipper, the creak of the bed. She realized it might have been smarter to choose the other bedroom, the master at the end of the hall, so they had a bit more distance; but she didn't think she had it in her to be that kind of smart.

She lay back, thinking of the day, the shape of it, the good and bad things, what she would do differently in the future, what memories she would lock in the jeweled box of her mind so nothing could ever touch them. She'd had more memories for that box in the past few months than in her entire life before and in the bright starlight, with the sound of the sea right outside her window as she lay dry and warm, she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of gratitude, of hope it gave her to think of where her life was and where it had been. Sadness too, for that little girl on Jakku, who had no idea there were people in the world who could love her this much.

She rolled over onto her side, then her stomach, and sleep found her, quick and sure.

\--

She woke, needing the fresher. It was still dark, dawn a few hours out. She stumbled on the carpet in the hallway on the way back, catching herself on the wall. Something about the feeling of falling jarred her, made her feel the drop in her stomach, made her realize something was wrong, there were tense, taut sounds coming from Ben's room, the sound of his body jerking against the sheets, rustling sharply against the quiet of the house. She crept to his open door, feet as soft as she could make them on the thick carpet.  His hands were fisted in the blankets as he lay on his back, eyes tightly shut, body so tight it was shaking, and -- _a nightmare_ she thought, moving into the room. She tried to project calm, tried to make sure he knew she was coming, while trying not to catch the edges of what was holding him captive.

She knelt, knee sliding on the pants he'd left heaped beside the bed, her hands soft on the mattress,

"Ben," she said, voice low. He didn't respond. 

She nudged a little harder with her mind. 

"Ben," She repeated, in a regular voice. He was sweating, emotions shifting across his face, flickering in and out, and she tried one more time.

"Ben: it's time to wake-up."

And he jerked awake with a gasp, sitting straight up, hands in front of him to ward-off a blow, head ducked with his eyes searching for the threat. He glanced down at her and said:

"Rey, what are you doing here -- they're coming, you need to --" And she put out her hands, palm-up, his eyes focusing on their pale shape in the starlight streaming through the open window.

"I'm safe," she said, and he took a breath, eyes widening at the sweet smell of salt air. He looked out the window to the endless horizon over the sea, stars scattering across an infinity of waves, dome of the heavens arcing above.

"Lehon?" He asked, looking around, eyes somehow more wild than they'd been before.

"Yes," Rey said, "But we're safe. I won't let anything get you."

He looked at her again, hand moving towards her cheek before freezing, fingers hovering in the air between them. "If I'm just imagining you, I'm not sure I want to know just yet," he murmured, voice soft.

"I'm here." She said. "I'm real. You got out."

He seemed to consider this, and with something that looked like it took more effort than was pretty, he finished his gesture, calloused fingers slipping gently into her unbound hair.

"Rey," he breathed, drawing her up, and she came, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, leg folded under her, knee pressed against his thigh. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his.

"I'm here." She said again, feeling his hands move through her hair, soft, so soft on the tender skin of her scalp. She could feel his body cooling down from the nightmare, the shifting of his broad muscles. She tried to ignore her body, the parts that were feeling warmer, the parts that were feeling softer, as they breathed in the darkness together.

After long minutes, Ben said: "Sorry for waking you," he said, voice quiet.

She rolled her forehead against his, shifting closer to his warmth as a cool breeze blew through the room. "It's no problem," she murmured.

And she could hear him smile, could feel the warmth coming from him. "It is. You're always here for me. And I want to --" and he took a breath, pulling himself back from her. He quirked a smile, soft and a little sad.

"There's a lot I want to do, but it's probably best if you head back to your room," and Rey felt cold, wanting to scramble back, put her arms up to ward off this feeling, this thing and then his hand was on her arm:

"It's late," he said, voice gentle, "And you set clear boundaries. I'm not going to push them. But it's late, and you look," his eyes were so soft, so clear, "Like silver-voiced Anima before the wax fell from the candle," he said, and she didn't catch the reference, but his tone was one of wonder and affection. "And if we're going to keep to our agreement, I can't sleep with you here." His smile got a bit bigger, "Because sleep has nothing to do with what I want."

And she smiled back, biting her lip as she moved away, his hands trailing down her neck to her tank-top-covered shoulders, down the smooth skin of her arms, making every one of her fine hairs feel alive, before squeezing her hands and letting go. She stood, knees shaky for some reason, and stepped back.

"Goodnight, Ben," she said.

"Good night," he replied.

\--

They ate a quick breakfast of fruit and cheese at their small dining room table, Ben reading and Rey looking sleepily out over the ocean, the white haze of the Harmattan winds coming from over the waves. Their cottage was the closest to the lagoon, to the little inlet that fed it. As Rey's mind came online, she realized she had been staring at a tumbled-down structure made of rock with half-broken wooden poles scattered around it. She finished up her food, stacking their plates in the middle of the table to handle later, and tapped him on the shoulder, pointing. "Think that's the hotsprings?" She asked. He stood, moving to the window. Then he grinned back at her, cocked his head and said: "Only one way to know,"

And he was running, bare feet pounding on the hallway and nearly out the door before she yelled: "Hey!" 

He was faster than her, sure-footed, and she worried, for a brief, terrible instant that one of the others would see them would think he was trying to escape; but then she forced herself not to throw her worry towards him. They wouldn't shoot him at a distance like this and she'd deflect the bolt if they tried. If he could feel free in this place, only for a moment, she was going to hold onto that moment for him, grip it with clawed hands.

He tagged a still-standing pole and turned to grin smugly at her as she slowed to a walk, glaring a bit as her blood ran racing through her veins. Her head was pounding from the run, and from seeing him grinning, hair working its way free of his hair tie, foaming into a mass around his face. She reached up, dragging a strand from away from his eyes and for a moment, their shared breath was hotter than any hotspring could be. Then he pulled back, arm going behind her and guiding her to see what he'd found:

"They haven't been kept up," he said, looking over the circle of long, deep tubs, some bone dry, some full of algae water, none looking particularly hospitable. Rey looked up the beach, towards the little creek that fed the pools, and pointed. He leaned down to sight along her arm, like he had in the galaxy room in her mind, his cheek close to hers:

"Looks like something made a dam," she said, looking at a heap of branches, mud and rocks, that had diverted the stream from its flow into the aqueducts that would have flowed into and through the tubs. Now she was looking, she saw the whole hotspring was arranged like a sun, the six rays the individual tubs (or, a treacherous part of her mind whispered, very-close-coupletubs), and a large central pool that could fit about six regularly-sized humans.

She tapped her knuckles on the post, hearing the sound of solid wood.

"Perhaps a storm?" she wondered, looking at the heaps of violently-shattered wood. Ben made a contemplative noise, bending down to shift some of the wreckage, hand drifting away from her side.

A shout came for them from across the sand, Finn yelling something, and Rey turned, gesturing she was unable to hear him. He waved for them to come back and Rey looked at Ben. He was still rummaging around but when he sensed her attention on him, he stood, and rolled his shoulders.

"Maybe they wanted to do a group breakfast?" He asked, and Rey nodded. She reached a hand down to him and pulled him up, fingers light on his wrist. He smiled:

"Better get going then," he said, his voice low as he stood just a little closer than he needed to.

"Yeah," Rey said, noticing again how much lighter his eyes were in the daylight. She heard Finn yell again and turned abruptly, dropping Ben's hand and starting off down the beach. He strode to catch up, walking at her side, looking out over the water. Voice as soft as the rush of waves against the sand, he said:

"This is better than I could have hoped for." And there was something sad in his voice, something mourning the unhappy future he'd imagined for himself, those months in the cell. Rey nudged against his mind, passing through feelings of warmth, of comfort, of sunlight and sand and safety. 

"This is exactly what I hoped for." She replied and he ducked his head, a smile gracing his lips before reaching back to untangle his hair from the hairband and begin to work it back into a low bun.

\--

Finn had cooked pancakes, and though they'd already eaten, Ben and Rey still managed to pack a few of the fluffy things in. Then Rose needed help fixing the HVAC system in her cottage and then Poe found a work-out room with weights and wanted help pulling them outside.  Finn watched appreciatively as his partner tested-out the bench press.

Lunch was sandwiches, Ben and Rose setting-out all of the fixings. Rey invited Rose to a work-out after lunch while Finn and Poe went for a walk around the lagoon. Rey had just finished her benchpress set when Rose sighed, looking out at the water.

"I don't know if I've ever been someplace that felt so safe," she said, brushing her hair back from her face. Rey wanted to agree, but then she thought of the rancors and the wildness in Ben's eyes last night, how he kept looking towards the trees, and wasn't so sure. Just when she was about to say something, Rose's voice changed and she said:

"What is he _doing_?" She asked, and Rey squinted, the sun in her eyes as she tried to follow the other woman's gaze.

She was looking at Ben, who was doing something near the hotspring with a big pile of broken-up wood in his arms. He wasn't wearing a shirt, _Maker help her._ She turned to Rose.

"I'm not sure," she said, levering herself off the bench. "I should go see." 

Rose moved to curls as Rey grabbed a few pieces of fruit, scooping the hem of her tunic to form a quick basket, shoved her feet into her boots and headed out across the sand.

As she approached, Rey realized Ben was -- sweaty. She tried to focus on that word, not _glistening_ , or _gleaming_ , or _shining like Adonis at dawn_. 

He was just sweaty; everyone got sweaty.

He'd cleared a good bit of the storm wreckage, sorting the broken pieces into piles of what looked like mostly-whole beams, possibly-fixable-pieces, and kindling. He must have been at it for a while, but there wasn't the sense of irritation at manual labor. Instead, Rey felt an almost meditative taste to his Force-signature, a contentment coming from grinding his body down to its core abilities -- and a manageable energy level. 

It was such a reservoir of calm that Rey felt a piece of her unfurl, a piece that was normally tense, protecting her against the wild whips of emotion that could come from him. It felt good, the idea that  _she_ could maybe have a tantrum or two without the world ending.

"Afternoon," she said, plopping herself down on a clear piece of sand, pulling out a piece of red fruit and popping it in her mouth.

"You hungry?" Ben shook his head, getting his hands around a big blackwood beamtwice his height and the thickness of his arm and hefting it, breath escaping his lips at the effort. His biceps were -- there was a lot going on there and she needed to look elsewhere _now_. She tried to focus on his eyes, but they were smiling, smirking at having caught her looking. 

He laid the beam in the mostly-usable pile and collapsed in the sand beside her, reaching into her lap for one of the red pieces of fruit, looking out over the hot spring and the progress he'd made in just an afternoon. 

"I think this is fixable," he said and she smiled. 

"Me too," she replied, "I can get Finn and Poe and Rose to come and help --"

But he was shaking his head, reaching for another long fruit, this one with sweet pods in it, saying: 

"I've got it."

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "We're not in a rush," she said slowly, "but if there's anything too heavy for one person --"

And he gave her a funny look before glancing over at the hip-high jumble of mostly-usable beams, before closing his eyes and raising his hand, fingers gently curved. Rey felt a mass of Force-control gathering around them, but it wasn't a rough sea; it was more like a dawning sky.

Something was strange about how he felt in the Force, something she couldn't put her finger on, but before she could focus on it, she heard a creaking-cracking sound. The whole massive wooden pile lifted a few centimeters off the ground, beams shifting into straight lines and right angles, moving until it was a neat square before gently settling to the sand.

Rey felt her mouth drop open, knowing her eyes were wide as he opened his lazily, satisfaction clear.

"I think I've got it," he said, voice teasing, and she threw the podcasing of her fruit at his chest. He batted it away and grinned grinned at her.

"Did that feel good?" She asked and he laid back, stretching his arms high above his head, not seeming to worry about getting sand in the thick mass of his hair. His face was bright in the sun, his beauty spots standing out more now he wasn't encased in shadow.

He pushed the feeling of well-honed muscles used for what they'd been trained, the satisfaction of a task completed well and cleanly, and no small amount of pride in his own control. She smiled down at him, before dropping a few more pieces of fruit on his stomach. His eyes sprang open at the sensation and he looked down, catching one of the round red ones before it could roll-away into the sand.

"Don't forget to eat -- I just wanted to make sure you were ok out here," she said. He nodded and his hand came up, tracing down the back of her arm.

"You could bring me some water," he teased, "Since I'm doing all this hard work." And she huffed. 

"The cottage is a two-minute walk away, go get it yourself." And he -- he _pouted_ and the part of her stomach that loved the Porgs' tiny feet and massive eyes and loth-cats toe-beans flipped over like one of Finn's pancakes. She shook her head.

"I'll get sand everywhere," he said warningly, gesturing to his already dirty pants.

She shook her head again: "I was raised by sand, remember? You can't scare me." 

And he sighed, standing up, his back entirely covered in the stuff. There were the scars again, the ones that had been there before Nauticus, the ones he hadn't wanted her to heal. Her arms told her it was reasonable, expected-even, to offer dust some of that sand off of him; she gripped the edge of her tunic tighter, keeping her remaining fruit from rolling away. He turned and reached down to help her up, and then as she moved to get up, something caught in his eyes, something about her stomach. Rey froze, realizing he was seeing her handprint scar through in the real world for the first time. She forgotten about it for one happy minute.

She hunched a little, unable to hide it completely without dropping the fruit, and he nudged a feeling towards her, perhaps sensing the colliding cracks in her mind. The nudge felt like comfort, the same bouquet of feelings she was always sending towards him, a feeling of _it's ok, you're ok_. And she relaxed into it, just for a second, eyes drifting shut. 

She felt herself stand-up straight again, shoulders back, then opening her eyes to see his. They weren't full of jealousy or fire or anger, but something harder than all of those. It wasn't dangerous-feeling, more like, like he was making a commitment to himself about something.

"Want any more?" She asked, bouncing the fruit in her tunic hem, and he nodded, reaching towards her and grabbing a few more seed pods.

"I'll be back for dinner," he said, and she was relieved that she didn't hear a question in his voice.

"Want to help me make it?" She asked, and he quirked a smile at her.

"I can't cook, but I can clean," he offered and she smiled.

"It's a plan." Rey said and headed back to finish-up her work-out with Rose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write, but there's some heavy stuff in here too. A few people have panic attacks. Nothing that's not warned for above, but let me know if you need details.
> 
> I play fast-and-loose with Poe's home culture but in a fun way.

The dishes were cleared and the pots and pans washed and out to dry; Rey had made jolof rice, the spice just right for her and everyone else dousing their servings liberally with yoghurt. The ocean's night was stretching deep, but no one much wanted to leave just yet.

Rey felt a warm tension breathing, like they were all holding something fragile in the air together, each holding the weight of it on a finger, and if any one of them left, it would fall, shatter; but if they just stayed, a few more minutes it could keep floating, keeping connecting them, hovering, bright.

Rose had moved to the living-room area, taking a seat right in the middle of the only couch, BB-8 tucked-up under her legs like the most mutter-y footstool there ever was. That left two armchairs and the many pillows stacked on the floor for the rest of them. Ben and Rey took the armchairs and Poe and Finn sat on either side of Rose, arms overlapping where they stretched out behind her.

Rose braced her hand on Poe's knee and leaned forward to reach under coffee table, pulling out a box of what looked like children's games: wooden blocks, toy soldiers, spinning tops and string -- and a deck of cards. She tapped it on the table, looking over a Finn. He cocked his head at her and she said in a low voice:

"I hated the people at Canto Bright for what they did; there's nothing wrong with a bit of gambling between friends." And there was something of a shark in her teeth as she unwrapped the pack, tapping it on the table and flushing it together, thick slick card stock smacking against itself in a satisfying way, Finn's eyes mesmerized by the quick shape and flow of her motions.

She glanced at Poe, expecting to see irritation or warning on his open features but -- no, no, there was something else, something like fascination; maybe like interest. A piece of Rey's chest expanded, loosening; perhaps this could end-up alright, whatever might grow between the three of them. Complicated; but alright.

Then Poe said: "There are better games we could play." And then he's looking at Ben, something like a smirk coming across his face. Ben's looking at him evenly, eyes projecting a steady warning, and then Poe turned to Rey, saying:

"Ben knows all kinds of games." and Ben -- he chokes, starts to stand, sits back down, and schools his face to something that he probably thinks looks stern and focused but is actually just on the edge of horrified.

"No." He says once his voice is under control. "Absolutely not. Rey doesn't know how to play padawan games and I'm not going to teach her."

And Rey's eyes were getting big. Ben's Force-signature wasn't actually scared, more like uncomfortable, and maybe a little eager. The tension in the room was stretching out, funneling down one of two pathways -- a soft slide away as they dissolved the golden shimmer in the air and went to their respective cottages; and building on this, this something, something like what she thought family felt like. She turned around in her seat and leaned on her elbow.

"I'm game." She said, and Poe whooped in triumph. Ben turned a pained look her way, and she just grinned right back, daring him to back down. 

"Can't we just play cards?" And his voice was -- it was almost a _whine_. She raised her eyebrows at him: he sounded almost -- almost her age. Sulky and young and nothing like the labyrinth-minded darksider she'd first met, or the quieter man she'd been getting to know. She felt like she'd chosen the right path, even as he mock-glowered at her.

Poe broke in, shaking his head faux-sadly: "Rey had a deprived childhood," he said, pulling his face into a mou,"Never learning any Force-games. I think we should fix that."

Rose and Finn were looking between the three of them, interested but not knowing where this was going.

Rey leaned forward: "Ok," she said, "What do I do?"

\--

The first game was rambunctious, reminding Rey of a version of The Ground is Made of Sarlaccs except when a non-Force-user called out: "You're my only hope!" the Force-user on their team had to nudge them through the air to the nearest non-sarlacc location. Ben and Rey sat back-to-back in the middle of the living room, Rey laughing as she nudged Rose a little too hard and left her sprawling across the couch. After Poe nearly broke one of the chairs during a desperate scramble, Finn called a halt to that one.

Poe was delighted, breathless -- "Hide and seek?"

Ben narrowed his eyes: "No one goes into the trees."

And Poe nodded: "Between the cottages and the beach only." Rose looked a question, but then Poe closed his eyes and started counting down from 100.

Ben and Rey had started off fast, running together towards their cottage. When they reached its white stucco wall, she asked, voice low: 

"How is this different with the Force?" and Ben paused, listening and hearing Poe reach 75, before Ben was crowding her against the wall, one hand going behind her back as he shared a memory:

_ Ben was small, tucked behind a basket of luscious clothes, hair long and getting in his eyes. There was a funny feeling in his chest, and Rey realized with a pang it was because he was trying to stifle giggles. She'd never been in a memory of his that felt so light, so free. She could hear someone moving around through the wicker doors, saying: _

_ "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" and then the closet door opened wide, a burst of light and --  _ oh, that is what Han Solo must have looked like as a younger man _, she thought, heart growing sad, but Ben -- her Ben, the Ben who was standing so close she could feel the warmth of him even through the night air, his breath warm and loud against the background of the ocean -- Ben redirected her to the memory, not to the man standing grinning down at where he'd expected to find his son, but to the little boy whose face was aching with his broad smile, who'd just figured out how to slip between the bends in the light, how to hide in plain sight. Han's face screwed up in confusion and he turned his head, clearly listening for Ben's helpless giggles, before he knelt and held his hands out._

_"Come on, bud, no fair --" and reached forward with his big, work-worn hands, little Ben leaning into them --_

Then the shared memory broke and it was Ben's hands holding her up, the vision intense enough she was grateful for the extra support.

"We can  _do_ that?" She whispered, hearing Poe make it to 30.

Ben slipped his hand into hers and tugged her away, towards the front door of the house.

" _You_ can," he said, voice too low for her to catch the tone as he hustled her towards the back of the house. "It's a lightsider-only approach to the Force," Rey jerked to a stop in the hallway, tipping her head. Poe was at 15 and counting down but she'd never heard of this.

"Different sides of the Force have different powers?" She asked and he nodded, gesturing, voice fast and low as he half-listened for the sound of Poe approaching:

"Most of what you've been doing, it's side-neutral, right? Darksiders can float things, lightsiders can float things. It's not like healing or hiding, which is only for light-siders, or projecting pain or Force-rend, something darksiders can do. When you choose a side, you lose access to anything you used to be able to do before you chose." She narrowed her eyes:

"Force-rend?" She asked and he tugged her hand, passing through:

_Force-rend is when you can rip living things apart._ His tone was carefully neutral, but there was something under it, a hunger; a fear.

She let him lead her, not to the master bedroom, but to the 'fresher. She was about to object when he held a finger to his lips and pointed up to the ceiling -- an access hatch. She grinned at him, unsure if she should be delighted at his nearly-scavenger-style awareness of exits or worried he was still scoping them out during their beach vacation; she decided to stick with delighted. He reached up, unscrewing the latches and popping the covering off to a view of the stars.

He looked a question at her and she raised-up her hands, stifling her own giggle as he gripped her around the waist and boosted her up high enough she could scramble her way onto the roof. She leaned down offering him a hand which he gamely took, huffing in surprise as she hauled him halfway up through the opening before he got with the program and started helping.

She passed through their connection:  _I wasn't joking about the deadlifting you_  and his answering burst of laughter nearly gave them away.

From their perch on the roof, Rey and Ben watched Poe run around, looking in windows and rambling through their cottage, hollering his happy pilot's heart out. He'd started with their cottage, perhaps assuming they would be easy prey; Rey felt an outsized satisfaction that they'd proven him wrong. Once he wandered away from their cottage and towards his and Finn's, Rey crawled to the edge of the roof to see if she could see the others. She covered her grin and waved Ben over, shuddering a little as she felt his warm self move-up to lie beside her. She pointed:

Rose was outside of that cottage, around the corner from Poe, halfway up a drainpipe, but struggling for the next handhold. She was so focused on her goal she didn't hear him come up behind her, but when he reached over to grab her ankle, she let go with a start, falling backwards and right into his arms. He grinned that big, charming grin at her and Rose's face was shocked, eyes wide as she smacked him in the chest, Poe laughing as he set her back down and then held-up his hands to ward-off more teasing blows before she leaned against his chest, catching her breath.

Ben leaned his bulk against her a little harder, passing through:

_ How long do you think we should wait before we tell her that triads are as common as binary pairs in Poe's home system? _

Rey turned, eyes wide as Ben grinned, his hand tracing up her side to rest easily in the sway of her back.

_Poe's not the only one who can remember Yavin IV._ There is was, the mix of sadness and fondness again. She wanted to ask him what happened there, what happened after Luke came at him with the lightsaber; she knew what Han had told her, what everyone else had implied and assumed; but she wanted to know for herself. But Ben was smiling at her now, and the moonlight was turning their world to silver and shadows, the sound of the sea soft in her ears and the Harmattan winds ruffling through his midnight hair, and she couldn't ask; not tonight.

_ I'm going to see if I can _ disappear, Rey said, and before Ben could object, she dove into that feeling, that slip-between-the-starlight feeling she'd pulled from his memory. His hand was still steady on her back, fingers moving lightly on the cloth there, but his eyes widened just a touch, seeming to focus just behind her, then further towards the trees in the distance. His grin took over his entire face as he flopped onto his back, pulling her against him as she wriggled happily, grin massive and triumphant, crowing with delight in her, not a trace of that sadness left and he said, forgetting their game --

And then they heard from just below them:  


"Hey!" And they looked down to see Poe and Rey -- panicked at the loud male voice where she wasn't expecting it, just for a second, throwing her sense of moving between the stars over and around Ben, yanking him to her, and then she heard:

"What the kriffing hell -- where'd you both go?"

\--

The game ended a few minutes after Rey revealed them both, grinning and breathless from the excitement of learning something new and then when Poe found Finn asleep in his 'hiding place' of their bedroom they all agreed to call it a night. Sleep came easy and soft, and the morning came just as gentle, the sun's rays warming Rey's sheets as she lounged and waited for the sounds of morning.

They came through her open window, the sound of Ben's low voice and the clanking of weights. Rey sat-up, looking out the window.

Finn was already at the weights, clearly well-sunscreened, and Ben was approaching, and for a few minutes, they orbited each other, Ben on the bench while Finn was finishing-up curls with the free weights. After Ben had warmed-up with the bar, he began moving weights over. 20 kbs, then 40, then 80 -- and then Finn stepped in, said something and Ben froze, looking-up at him from where he was wrestling the weight onto the bar. Finn began to fidget under Ben's intense gaze, taking a half-step back and raising his hands but then -- Ben nodded and Finn was stepping behind the bench, hands loose on the bar, as he and Ben exchanged a few more words as Ben stripped-off his shirt.

Then Ben pivoted and lay back, getting his hands settled on the bar, adjusting his grip, and it came into focus for Rey -- Finn was  _spotting_  him. Ben was laying there, powerful thighs braced, chest tensed and ready for the weight, and trusting Finn to not let the bar smash his face in if he slipped.

Rey caught her breath as she looked at the two men, both shirtless, both gleaming in their own ways under the slow-rising Lehon sun. Then Ben took a short, sharp breath, and the bar was up, hoisting out of its holder, pushing into the sky and then down, just brushing the apex of his chest, then up again. Finn's eyes were steady on him, checking for signs to unbalance or weakness. They alternated sets, Finn using a different bar with a little bit less extreme weight on it, Ben spotting him as well, leaning low down to maintain contact with the bar the whole time.

Rey's attention was beginning to wander away, thinking of the fruit in the big silver bowl she'd set on the side table next to the front door, maybe heading over to the lagoon to practice paddling around, when it happened. 

Ben was under the bar, having just finished a set, and Finn was beside him, trying to demonstrate something. Finn leaned down, putting his hand firmly on Ben's shoulder, and Rey saw him freeze, every muscle in his body go tight. But Finn hadn't noticed, Finn was moving closer, moving his hand to Ben's neck,  _pressing_  down -- maybe explaining how not to tense your neck when you're lifting to avoid whiplashing-- but what he  _did_  was stand over Ben Solo and hold him down. Rey shoved her window screen and vaulted over the window and into the sand, stumbling because she couldn't take her eyes off Ben as every weight, from the lavender padded hand-weights to the 100 kg bells, shot a meter up into the air and began to circle Finn, spinning faster and faster.

As she ran, she saw Ben raise his hands and -- gently move Finn's of his neck.

Then he sat up, slow as breathing as Finn finally realized that something was wrong, finally took that step back, but Ben was speaking, his face turned away from her and towards her friend, and so she saw it, almost heard it when Finn said -- "Oh, wow, I am so sorry --" 

And then -- the weights began to settle back into their places,  _clink-clink-clink-clink_  as they moved in lines back to their racks, orderly and purposeful and safe. Rey slowed her pace to a trot, tasting of blood in her mouth, then paused, standing before the two men. Ben sitting with his hands palm-up in his lap, Finn still apologizing.  Finn saw her and paused, though she knew Ben must have felt her coming every since she cleared the windowsill.

"Hey, Rey," Finn said, and Rey wondered for a moment, what he was going to say. Was he going to out Ben? He could reasonably guess that she knew  _exactly_  why Ben couldn't handle being held down, but she hoped he would decide to keep Ben's privacy for him.

"Hey, guys, everything ok?" And Ben turned to her, a little pale, eyes a little scattered, but also clearly in control, clearly present. She stepped close enough to touch, holding her hand out subtly to the side, and he slipped his hand into hers, giving her a small squeeze.

Ben said: "Everything's good, we just found another exciting trigger to look out for." And his tone was slightly self-mocking, slightly sad, but not falling apart, not enraged just -- like finding one apple in a bag had mildew in the core.  _Oh well, better find another apple_.

Finn nodded. "I'm so sorry, I should have --"

And Ben was shaking his head, though Rey agreed, Finn  _should_  have. But then Ben said: "I'm not sure I could have guessed that would have been my reaction, so I don't know how you could have." 

He paused, releasing her hand to undo his hair, shaking it out around his face before combing it back with his fingers and retying in.

"You going to keep going?" She asked, voice light, and Finn looked at Ben, a look of pain moving across his face.

Ben replied: "Maybe another time -- tomorrow, let's plan on tomorrow, ok?" And he gave a smile that only rang partly false. Finn nodded, eyes cautious, and began to move to get the weights off the bar. Ben started to help, then caught himself, grabbed his shirt, and walked towards the cottage, Rey following.

He was barely inside the front door when she heard the crash.

He was kneeling beside the fruit bowl, a big dent in its side where it had knocked into the stone floor, red fruit sprayed everywhere across the white carpet. His hand was on the bowl, but he wasn't gathering anything in; he was just breathing, air moving hard through his tensed chest.

"Ben?" She asked, and he shook his head, holding his hand up for her to stay away. She paused, and then eased herself down the wall, sitting with her hands dangling between her knees. She was still wearing her sleeping clothes, and shivered a little in the cool morning breeze. She looked out the door, and saw the sheen of white on the horizon.

"Do you know why they call it the Harmattan season?" She asked, and Ben didn't say anything, his eyes closed as he tried to breath through whatever was happening inside his mind.

"It's the warm winter in a tropical zone near a big desert. The finest, shiniest sand particles get picked-up by the seasonal winds, pulling them in trailing veils across the sky where they hang, awaiting the rains. The people on Jakku called it the healing wind, the wind that stings, but always promises rain." She leaned forward to her knees, hand going out to grip his shoulder and his hand came up, holding hers close to him.

"You just need to get through the sting; to know the healing will come."

\--

In the end, they cleaned-up the fruit together. Ben gave her a tight hug, then packed-up a lunch and said he was going to work on the hot spring. Rey watched him leave, arms across her waist, leaning her head against the door, feeling the wind move around her ankles.

\--

Rey was floating on her back in the shallows of the lagoon under Finn's watchful eye, admiring the arcing, cloudless sky above her, when she heard a strange sound in the distance, muffled through the water. Something like a roar, or a cry. 

Then she heard Ben ask Finn -- 

"Where's Rose?"

There was a thread of tension in Ben's voice when he asked, so she raised her head a little to hear Finn's reply.

"I think I saw her walk into the woods, said she'd seen watermelon seeds and wanted to get us some?" He said, voice slow, sun-hazed. Rey tried to look over at them, getting salt water in her eyes.  She was just past the point in the slow-lapping lagoon where she would be able to touch her toes to the ground, but she wasn't worried -- Ben and Finn and Poe were all within an easy shout, and she's mostly-mastered the doggy-paddle.

Ben barked: "When?"

And then there was a crashing sound, a smashing-through-the-water sound as Ben took off running towards the forest. He threw back a request for permission to take a thread of her awareness with him and she gave it, instantly, feeling his body unleash as he ran full-out towards something only he could feel, a danger only he could sense. He gave her what he was seeing and hearing, and she struggled to maintain her balance on the water as an entire other body's feelings pulsed through her. 

There was panic running through him, hot like he'd hooked his bloodstream to an outlet. Just one word occupied his mind as Rey struggled to get to shore, struggled not to lose the connection to Ben as she heard Finn and Poe shout after him, heard them scramble to follow Ben as she's barely kept her head above water. 

Just one word made him fly forward like he's leaping over magma and not slick, slippery undergrowth.

_Rancor_.

Rey gulped a mouthful of sea water as she dipped beneath the surface and bounced her toes off the bottom, coming up to the top for a gasp of air. Finn had called this spy-hopping, said it was how whales spied their surroundings and was a good way for beginners like her to keep drowning. She pushed herself forward until she could get to her feet and clamber up the shore, when Ben's awareness slammed into her again, and she collapsed on all fours, mouth barely above the slow-churning water. 

Ben was running, leaping over broken branches, higher and faster than Finn or Poe could keep up, using and over-using his connection to the Force, stretching his senses out and out, trying to _get Rose_ , memories and fears streaming behind him, trying to catch him as much as he was trying to reach the source of that sound, that terrible, awful grinding sound he still caught in his memories sometime: the growl of a rancor that had sighted its prey. 

Rey lent him some of her connection, letting it flow through him as she coughed-up lagoon water, head down, hair over her eyes. His reach exceeded anything he'd felt before and -- _there_. 

A beacon like a life, like a star, burnished and tawny and  _Rose_.

He turned around a raven-root tree, raced forward as his sense of her got closer and closer, brighter and brighter, body still but still so, so alive.

He burst into the clearing and with him, Rey took it in in flashes --

A massive, drool-dripping rancor in the middle of the clearing, gnashing its crooked teeth as it scented the air --

Rose, holding her leg, hidden from the monster's view behind a tall boulder, trying not to breathe -- 

The rancor's beady, hate-filled eyes, catching sight of Ben as he stood panting in the purple-striped grass.

Rey watched Ben's thoughts, gasping for breath, seeing him make the calculation, see the future the way only a soldier looking down a barrel can see her future. The rancor screamed its terrible scream and he threw himself towards Rose, raising his hand to the rancor and _yanking,_ _pulling_ something from a dark place inside him, something he'd kept locked away for months, something he was  _overjoyed_ to use fully  _again._

Then: pain in his shoulder as it slammed into the boulder fueling that drive to the dark and the waiting silence as he lay half-sprawled over Rose, expecting to hear the scream of a rancor just ripped to pieces with Force-rend. 

But there was just -- snuffling.  And a second scream of triumph, much closer this time. 

No squall of pain, no terrible ripping sound; just more of that chuffing, snuffling, _hunting_ sound from the cottage-sized beast , its heavy footsteps menacing towards them.

Ben's mind was chaos, furious confusion whipping everywhere as he crouched over Rose, hissing:  "Don't move," in her ear.

"I wasn't going to!" She hissed back, smacking her head against the rock as her movement jostled her injured leg. 

Ben pressed his hand over it, feeling a piece of Rey's healing trickle out, numbing the pain if not going for the underlying break. 

He snuck his head up over the boulder; the creature was stalking towards them, swinging its massive head back-and-forth, scenting them on the wind. 

He raised his hand, slowly, focusing on the Force-rend technique harder than he'd had to in years, visualizing the beast's skin ripping away from its face, its teeth diving back under its gums and into its brain like living daggers and -- _nothing_. 

The visualizations had no power.  _He had no power_.

But his movement had caught the beast's attention and it rumbled once, a gleeful, awful sound, and then roared. 

Ben searched Rose's belt as she weakly swatted his hands, finding no knife, no blaster, only finding a bag full of melons. 

He checked his belt, hoping against hope there was a lightsaber, a blaster, a stick, anything -- 

The rancor was running, galloping on all fours, and Rey's heart was clenching as she felt his desperation, his despair, and he shouted for her --

_Rey!_

And she gave him all of it, every connection to the Force she had, every piece of it she could spare. She felt her body collapse in the water, seawater flowing down her throat as she forced her entire existence towards him in panic. 

Ben threw it all around Rose and himself, slipping between the atoms of light, hiding them both in plain sight, covering her body with his own, arms braced on either side of her face, head turned to listen for the crunch of the monster coming over the boulder.

The beast stumbled to a stop, snuffling and dripping its drool over the boulder, before twisting its nose up in disgust and jerking back, ambling away with a disappointed grunt. Ben kept Rose still for long seconds after the sound of its footsteps faded, then long seconds after that. Then he pulled himself back, Rey feeling his clammy skin as he looking in her terrified eyes and said in a steady low voice:

"Is it ok if I carry you?"

And the mechanic nodded, gritting her teeth, pale and shaking.

Rey pulled herself back, coughing what felt like several lungs up as she hazily felt Poe and Finn connect with Ben, their shouting only easing when Rose waved them away, saying she was alright, and Ben handed her over to Poe as Finn hovered, holding Rose's hand as tightly as Poe clutched her body to him.

She felt Ben begin to sprint back to the lagoon when she pulled back further, until she was the only one in her head, yanking herself the rest of the way onto the beach, feeling the crunch of sand under shoulder as she gasped and gasped, forcing herself to heal the damage no breathing for a long minute had caused. 

She had just knelt back, trying to brush the wet sand-caked hair off of her face, when she felt Ben hit the beach, boots crashing through the sand and rage boiling off him like a toxic fog, yelling as he ran towards her:

"What did you _do_ to me?" his face was a mask of rage when she tried to push herself to standing she stumbled and he was still moving towards her and a part of her, a small, furious part, panicked at his size, his rage, his screaming, his massive body standing over hers --

Rey shoved him back with the Force, knocking him backwards so he fell in the sand, his black shirt slashed right across with her power, Ben collapsing forward over the gaping hole.

Rey saw the shock in his face drive out the rage but couldn't track it because she was in the midst of a dark hurricane, felt her body collapsing to the sand, hand on her chest at the pain and power that had come with that shove. That had felt -- raw, and powerful, and painful, and strange; she'd never torn something before in her anger, never ripping something apart. 

_Was that Force-rend_? She wondered, feeling her limbs start shaking. She held up her arm, to ward Ben off as he got up and Finn entered the clearing, racing towards where it looked like Ben was trying to attack her, grabbing Ben's arm to hold him back -- when she looked up, she expecting to see the same rage on Ben's features but instead it was -- fear?

She crumpled further down, pressing her cheek to the sand as she tried to control the raging joy thrilling through her that felt like it was coming from everywhere but her heart, the power of making someone stop hurting her, stop making her afraid. 

She tried to breathe through it, but it was whirling, wrenching parts of her, bringing her pain and power from pain and Ben was struggling towards her, Finn holding him back, Ben was shouting something as everything faded red, everything screamed and crowed and swirled and spun around her until finally, finally, _finally_ , the quiet of his voice broke through in her mind,

_Theesa, five things, five things you see_. He pushed into her mind. She couldn't _see,_ she couldn't _breathe,_ but then he gave her:

_Sky, sun, lagoon, ocean, sand, cottage. Now you, theesa, you can do it._

She ground out, voice sounding so far away, so distant: "Sand, my arm, a shell, the sky, water,"

"Ok," came Ben's gasp, "Ok," and he was kneeling on the ground, Finn holding his arm in a lock, but his eyes were only for her: "Four things you can hear."

"My breath," she said, "the surf, the wind, your voice, my heartbeat."

"Good, great, theesa, you're getting it. Now, 3 things you can feel."

"Pain," she started, then tried again: "Sand on my knees, salt on my skin, my bathing suit."

"Ok," Ben's voice calm, quiet.

"Two things you can smell and one you can taste, you can do it,"

And Rey took a sharp breath through her nose, coughing as it brought more saltwater into her throat. "Salt, sand," she said, then: "Saltwater from when I _nearly drowned_ trying to save you, _you ungrateful ass_."

But those words came out with an anger that was all her own, none of that swallowing rage she'd just been gasping on. Ben didn't say anything, just looked at her with those worried eyes. 

"Ok," she said, and took a breath, pulling herself up to kneeling.  "Finn, let him go."

"Rey, what's going on -- I got on the beach and Ben was standing over you and I thought -- "

Rey shook her head. "Let him go. Ben didn't lay a hand on me." She looked at the ragged slash through Ben's black tunic and covered her face with her hands. "I attacked him; oh, _stars_."

"That's not what happened." Ben said and it sounded like he was closer and _oh_ , she needed to make sure, with her hands and eyes, that she hadn't  _hurt_ him; if he would let her near him.  _What was wrong with her?_

"Rey?" Finn asked, and she glanced up to see him looking towards his cottage where Poe was carrying Rose through the doorway. Rey stood, brushing the sand off her knees as Ben stood well out of her arm's reach, hands at his sides. There was a huge gouge in the sand where the fury of her Force attack had lifted not only Ben by a few meters and thrown him backwards but scooped about a 5 tons of sand and tossed it into the sea as well. The hole was waist-deep and slowly filling with a trickle of water. She wanted to smooth it over, put it back the way it had been, but wasn't sure what would happen when she connected with the Force again, what would come of it.

"I'm ok." And then Finn turned to Ben, looking him in the eye.

"Are _you_ ok?" He asked, glancing down at the other man's ripped-open shirt.

Ben looked down, patting the gaping hole in the dark cloth before nodding. Finn hemmed, and then said in a low tone:

"If Rey went after you, and you're not comfortable sharing a cottage with her tonight, you can stay with us." And Ben's face -- something complex was happening across it. Something like utter surprise and unexpected gratefulness that all resolved to a firm shake of his head.

"Like I said, that's not what happened." He leaned around Finn, looking closely at Rey.

"Are you ok?"

Rey said: "I'm fine. I need to lie down."  Finn narrowed his eyes, about to argue, so Rey decided to play dirty: "Is Rose ok?"

And Finn took a breath, stern look letting her know he knew what she was doing; but he headed off towards his cottage anyway.

Ben took a step towards her, hands up, and her heart crunched in her chest, to see him hesitant about being near her, even as she felt the same, the her ears still ringing with his shouting. She wrapped her arm around her stomach, still wearing her bathing suit and beginning to shiver in the brisk breeze, eyes on his as he stepped closer.

"Are you ok?" she asked again, not sure she would ever want to stop asking it, voice tiny and shaking a little, reaching out a hand to his bared chest and stomach before pausing, completely unsure of her welcome, even if he should be welcoming her. His expression showed understanding and he gripped her hand and pressed it to his untouched chest.

"Just the shirt -- nothing some thread won't mend." She stepped closer, tracing the whole long line that looked like it had been cut with a jagged dagger, right through the thick cloth.

She looked up at him. "What if it hadn't?"

"What if I hadn't let my temper get the better of me and rushed at you while you were down?" he countered. "What if I hadn't been all messed-up from this morning, all hyper-aware --"

"Your good ears are why Rose is alive," Rey countered, unwilling to let him dig himself into a hole.

He narrowed his eyes and said in a steady voice: "I think rather than mourning that might have happened, we would be better served figuring out what did." And then he paused, looking her more closely in the face.

"After you get some water, food, and a chance to use the 'fresher," he decided. 

She wanted to argue, but she was covered in gritty sand, exhausted and chilled. She didn't think she would be going back in the lagoon for the next few days at least, the feeling of water pouring down her throat still thick in her memory.

"You too," she said, looking at the thick slicks of mud across his legs from where he'd scrambled behind the boulder, and on the elbows of his shirt, from where he had braced his body over Rose's.

He smiled a little and gestured for her to lead the way, eyes careful on her as she worked her way over the uneven sand, the scar in the beach still filling with water behind them.

\--

Rey got the 'fresher first. She rinsed off quickly, gargling until the taste of the sea was off the backs of her teeth and all she could taste was toothpaste. Then she wrapped herself in a towel and headed out to the common area, still drying her hair.

Ben was sitting, reading the history of Alderaan she'd bought; he'd changed his shirt, into one of the old ones they'd found on the Falcon. She jerked her thumb to the 'fresher and he stood. She moved towards her room before she could find-out if he would want to walk near her or not.

Once she was dressed and he was in the 'fresher, she headed out to the living room, pouring herself some water and sitting down gratefully on the couch. Finn poked his head through the always open doorway:

"Is he --" and he jerked his head towards the 'fresher. Rey nodded, and Finn shuffled his boots off before coming in and hovering, hands on the back of a chair.

"What happened?" he asked, voice a harsh whisper, like being a Force-user might make Ben's hearing supernaturally more powerful. 

"First, Ben saved Rose without hurting the rancor, then he takes off, and when I caught up he looks like he's about to manhandle you, you're on the ground, and then you -- you scooped out a whole section of the beach, Rey. I've never seen you lose control like that." Left unsaid was that he _had_ seen Ben lose control like that.

She shook her head, thinking back: "I don't know, Finn. When Ben was saving Rose, he tried to -- he tried to use a darksider attack, to stop the rancor," and Finn's face was twisting, a wall of judgement coming down as Rey raised her hand: "But he _didn't_. He  _couldn't_ , I think." She sighed, pulling her feet up onto the couch and hugging her knees tightly to her chest.

"I don't know, Finn, I think something about being around me, around us, has messed-up his connection to the darkside."

Finn's face was a mask of confusion, but he bullied ahead: "But isn't that a good thing? I mean, him not being able to hurt people is a good thing, right?"

And Rey was shaking her head. "I don't think it's that simple. And I expect it feels like having your blaster suddenly turn into an electro-shield without telling you. It's not that you can't fight with an electro-shield, but if you're expecting a blaster and you're in sniper position, suddenly only having a shield is going to be a bit of a shock."

Finn's face was hard: "That's not a good excuse. You looked really scared, Rey."

Rey nodded, thinking back to the surge of fear. "Some of that was his fear of the rancor, bleeding over, I think; some of it is I have some of the same stuff Ben does, about not liking people over me." And Finn nodded, eyes serious.  The sound of the 'fresher turning off reached them: "Ben hasn't made any excuses and, again, I'm the one who took things physical." She heard the sound of the Ben's feet in the hallway, coming close enough to hear:

Finn shook his head. "Not good enough, Rey. We've given you a ton of lee-way on this thing with him, but I'm not going to sit here and pretend I didn't see you two get in a physical fight. Even if tempers are high, even if things are scary, you both need to be in control of yourselves enough not to hurt each other, whether you're just friends or something else." His face was set, stubborn lines across it, and then she noticed Ben, standing in the doorway, wearing an older shirt, with his arms crossed across his chest.

"I agree," he said, voice sad. "Finn, what do you think the next steps should be?"

And Finn froze; apparently _he_ hadn't heard Ben coming. 

He recovered quickly:  "We all need to be on the same page about what happened. Maybe between the five of us, we can figure out what to do next, but I'm not ok with you two just talking it out." And he took a deep breath, before saying: "And I think Ben should stay with us, tonight."

Ben's jaw tensed, but it didn't look like Finn was going to budge.

"We can talk about it. Who's on dinner tonight?" he asked.

Finn thought about it: "I think Poe. I heard he's making mariscos."

Ben narrowed his eyes: "Not with fish from these seas."

And Finn shook his head, a ghost of a smile creeping across his face. "No, canned-fish only. But the rice will be pretty amazing, if it's anything like back at base. Rose was going to be sous, but until her leg is better, Ben, can you head over and help out? Poe will need help for the next few hours."

Ben looked hard at Rey, but she stood, looking at the place where the slash had been, and nodded, saying:

"I'll see to Rose."

\--

 

She'd just twisted her ankle, nothing much Rey could heal, even if she trusted her connection to the Force enough to do it. She helped her set it to soaking in the tub and then wrapped it. She heard the whole story: that she'd seen some spice-watermelon vines trailing near the beach and had followed them deeper and deeper into the forest; that she'd found the most amazing hollow full of the things, unslung her bag and begun packing them in, already planning all kinds of fun games for the group, games she and her sister had played back home. Then: the crunch in the underbrush; running; tripping; the rancor's roar; Ben's appearance; the feeling of it hovered slathering over them  _and then left_.

"It wasn't like anything I've ever seen before," Rose said, and Rey nodded. It had felt incredible second-hand, like a golden cloak covering them from harm, like they'd been covered in the light entirely and completely. The more she thought about it, the less it felt like something that had come from her; the more she wondered if it hadn't just all come from Ben.

She headed back to their cottage to give Rose time to rest before dinner. The house now cold and too, too quiet without Ben there; there was a gaping hole in her stomach, roiling and sick-feeling. She needed something to do. She wandered to the master bedroom where they'd set-up their communications equipment and checked for messages on the scanner. There was one from Leia, looking for a status report. She would ignore that for now. Then a short one from Chewie that came through quickly. Then a much longer one; she started reading Chewie's while it the machine began decrypting it:

_I'm well, the ship is well, I am home. Find the letter from Jyndan Ingo below. See you in 7 weeks._

Line by line, came another message: the letter from Jyndan Ingo:

_Dear Rey,_

_Thank you for your letter. I had wondered what had become of you, though I was less in-the-dark as to your mission as you seem to think. I have thought hard about your request and would like to see your young man. For reasons that will become clear, I believe we should meet on Nauticus, a few kilometers south of the prison, in a week's time._

_As you hoped for, the Chriss leadership has granted me a furlough to work on Mr Solo's case and sufficient resources (a shuttle, fuel, time off, a bit of cash for a trial-clothes) to ensure I can do a good job of it. Clever of General Organa to tie her son's trial to that of his abusers and clever of you to keep that fact at the top of the Chriss leadership's mind. I believe we will work well together._

_I am sure you -- and Mr Solo -- have no interest in returning to Nauticus, but I believe something we can find there may be a key to his trial and time is not on our side to secure it._

_I mentioned above that I have more knowledge of his circumstances than you expected; what I knew of him drove me to give you one of my treasured books (I'm glad to hear you are enjoying it and I hope you have shared it with Mr Solo as well). I don't give out books to just anyone._

_You mentioned you hoped I was well with the ysalamiri. I can tell you that I am not only well; I am_ _in communication with them_ _. This is not something many people know, but having spent most of my adult life in their close proximity, I have come to learn that they are much more intelligent than most of their captors give them credit for._

_They not only have societies but they can communicate instantaneously across great distances, and if they choose, they can share what they see -- or what they _ _have_ _seen. _

_The ysalamiri had told me there was another Force-user, a young man, being beaten and hurt. While none of us knew what we could do about it from our respective captivities, once I met you, I had hope that his freedom would come sooner than later._

_The _ysalamiri_ showed me, through their connection with the Force which deadens ours but is no less strong than ours, some of what happened; you say he is not a kind man or easy to get along with, but I do not require those things in a client, only that I believe I can help the client towards more justice than he will get without my help. _

_And for what it is worth -- and to me, it is worth a great deal -- the ysalamiri rejoiced when he was freed, and they do not give their affections lightly. Neither, do I expect, do you._

_I -- and my jailers -- will await your reply and hope to see you in 7 days on Nauticus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are life! If something in here made you think, squee, gasp; if it made you curious or querrelous, I’d love to hear about it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter a lot and hope you enjoy it as well. Comments are wonderful and really motivate me to post every week. Classes just started-up again, so I'm figuring out where to fit-in this story, but I should be able to keep the every-weekend+Monday schedule.
> 
> This chapter won't be for everyone -- lots of talking about ~feelings~ with not a rancor fight in sight. But it moves the characters in ways I think are important; let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> Also, I just did a clean-up on this chapter, so if it reads differently (hopefully better!) that's why.

Rey walked into Rose's cottage, through the dark hallway to the kitchen, the folded print-out of the letter from Jyndan Ingo crumpling anxiously in her pocket, and heard Ben speaking in a low murmur but she could't make-out what he'd said. More clearly came Poe's never-quiet-voice response:

"That doesn't sound like Rey, but you're going to have to ask her." 

She came out of the hallway and Poe turned towards her, smiling. He reached for a glass, pointing to a big-bellied glass pitcher of something green and full of crushed ice on the counter. Ben was at the sink, hair in a simple braid tight against the back of his head, washing dishes with a heads-down seriousness she took as an indication he didn't want to talk to her. Her heart twisted in her chest, but she figured after this afternoon she deserved that; more than that.

After reading the letter, she'd spent hours running the tape of the afternoon; it look worse and worse every single time she thought about it: Ben's stricken face when she'd thrown him; Ben's pale, too pale still arms twisted behind his back, Finn's eyes on her; the scar in the sand. Mid-afternoon she'd decided it really hadn't been Ben's fault she hadn't gotten to shore more quickly, since Finn had been the one helping her learn to swim while Poe worked on his tan; it might have been Ben's fault that she'd been full of that indescribable rage if he was somehow sharing his emotions with her, felt so uncontrollably angry over something she normally would have been pissed about, but not enough to try to _cut_ him with the Force, or whatever she'd actually done. It was definitely his fault he'd yelled at her, come at her like that when she was down, yes. But she thought she would never bring him violence again, not with how they were with each other now. By dinnertime, her heart felt as crumpled as the letter in her pocket.

"Rey?" Poe asked, wiggling the glass again before seeing her expression and setting it down to put a hand on her arm. "Hey, hey; we're not doing the debrief until after dinner. Have something to drink." 

She looked towards Ben and caught his eyes, with some kind of question in them. She didn't know what her face was doing, but he turned back to the dishes with a hunched shoulder. But Poe was still standing int front of her, a worried look creeping over his broad, happy face, so she tried to match his tone, teasing:

"I thought Ben was sous?"

And Poe's face clouded, a twinkle still hovering in his bright eyes. He pointed a knuckle accusingly at Ben:

" _This one_ is not allowed to sous in any kitchen of _mine_  until he learns to use a knife -- " as Ben made to interrupt, Poe shook his head hard, saying: "And _do not_ tell me again that people are a lot easier to chop than garlic because, one: I don't believe you've chopped people up, Ben, that was a weird thing to insist on; two: look what he did to my best cutting board!"

And Poe reached back into the drying rack beside Ben and pulled-out a chopping board striped in light and dark wood with inlays of turquoise, waving it wildly. Rey leaned in, glancing at Ben to see how he felt about this teasing and seeing a tiny smile tucked into his cheek. The more the men she cared about teased each other, the closer they seemed to be; so she smiled and peered closely at the chopping board. There, right on the corner, was a perfect and dark _gouge_  in the shape of an A, like someone had cut along the same lines dozens of times, harder and harder.  Her fingers trailed over the mark as Poe laughed quietly to himself before grabbing the pitcher and beginning to pour her a glass. Ben looked over his shoulder and frowned at her:

He grumbled: "I was _trying_ to cut a garlic; I thought you had to cut in the same place, like striking a practice dummy."

"A clove of garlic," Poe muttered to pitcher as Ben shot him a not entirely charitable look.

"A 'clove' of garlic, though that doesn't sound like a real word," Ben said groused. "Dameron said 'mince' and that's what I thought --"

"Well, you thought wrong, kid -- " Poe said.

Ben glowered and turned back to the pot, scrubbing a deep pan with a bit more force than strictly necessary.

"Can I help?" Rey asked Poe in the sudden silence, and he nodded, handing her a drink. 

"How's that taste?" he asked.

She took a big swallow and then choked, the stinking drinkers' breath of most of the traders in Niima wafting over her memory, before getting the frozen slushy down and gasping: "Very alcoholic." 

Ben froze, and looked over at her, worry in his face.

"That's great!" Poe said, voice bright and a bit forced. "It's called a margarita." Ben's expression moved to a scowl. He stepped over to Rey and reached out for her glass. His arm was flecked with water from the sink, droplets sparkling in the low light of the dying sun; he smelled like dishsoap and taco shells. She handed it to him, seeing how carefully he kept his fingers from touching hers, but he still put the lightly salted rim to his lips and took a sip. He glanced over at Poe.

"Is this Kip's old recipe?" Poe paused, eyes going distant for a moment. 

He answered in a nearly-quiet tone:  "Yeah, how did you --"

Ben set the glass down on the center island, moving it in a circle, spreading the condensation on the clean teal tile: "The margarita recipe that nearly cost the resistance the battle of Endor?" Ben asked, head cocked, "You think I never heard of the mix so strong nearly every resistance general had to fly into the teeth of the second Death Star with a hangover banging in their heads?"

Poe cocked his head, pushing: "Han told you that story?"

Ben blanched and shook his head:  "Lando did, said he could barely see the starlines on that jump, his head hurt so bad."

Poe narrowed his eyes, hands going into his pockets: "I didn't know you spent a lot of time with Lando." There was something in his tone, something Rey wasn't sure how to interpret. It sounded like worry; or caution.

Ben shrugged, leaning his hips back against the bright tile bar. "He was mostly doing his thing with my father when I was growing up, before the Praxeum."

"I'd bet," Poe said, the same thing still off in his voice. "Look, not for nothing, but he was really broken-up about what happened on Starkiller. If I were you, I'd steer clear; if you see him."

Ben clenched his jaw and rubbed the water from Rey's glass on his pants leg before turning back to the dishes.

There was a jumble of words and laughter as Finn and Rose wandered in, Rose's arm over Finn's shoulder but her face full of her usual color.

"Who wants margaritas?" Poe cried, voice a brittle under the good cheer.

"Me!" Finn said and Rose said in a chorus.

\--

Dinner was quiet. Poe's mariscos, enchiladas, chips and salsa were a wonder, not just because he'd managed to put together what tasted like real food from the mish-mash they'd gathered at the asteroid trading station and whatever leftover supplies had been left-over in the cottages.

After a stern look from Ben as he served Finn and Rose, Poe pulled out a second pitcher of non-alcoholic margaritas, which Ben and Rey stuck to throughout dinner while the others got slightly tipsy. They were seated apart, by Poe's firm if silent dictate. Rose sat at the head of the table, with Finn on her right and Poe on her left, with Rey and Ben facing each other across the end of the table. Rey missed the feeling of his leg sliding against hers as he tried to fit his too-big body around regular furniture.

When the last chip was eaten and the last bit of sauce drenched from the bright blue plates, Poe pushed himself back from the table and clapped his hands for attention. He pointed to a pile of pan dulce on the counter he'd baked-up in between roasting Ben's cooking skills. 

"We have an incident to go over before we can move onto dessert," he said. Rey felt the warm quiet of the evening trickle away into the glassy night.

Poe continued: "Here's what we'll do." He looked at Ben and then at Rey, face growing serious. "We're going to manage this like a friendly fire incident." 

Finn frowned, and asked, voice unsure:

"That seems kind of -- cold? Ben and Rey are in a _relationship_ , it's not like they had a logistical mix-up during a raid."

Poe was already shaking his head. "They _both_ say they're not in a relationship; not right now, anyway." He looked at both of them, eyes hard on Rey's face. She kept hers neutral, not sure what Ben would see on it; not sure what he would want to see on it, now. Poe's tone softened: "And I'm not a counselor; not that it would help them anyway."

Ben's tone was sharp, speaking for the first time since they'd sat down: "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Poe glanced at him and sighed, running his hands through his hair before glancing under his hair at Rey.

He asked: "Rey, is it ok for someone in a relationship to hit their partner?"

Rey scowled, saying:  "Of course not -- "

Poe nodded: "But when you were growing up, did you ever see someone lay hands on their partner?"

And she sat back in her chair, hands going tight on the thick wooden armrests as the memory took hold, scavenger women; the screaming from the camps; when the screaming stopped and the dull thumps began. She gritted her teeth and ducked her head, nodding. She could feel Ben's eyes on her, but whether it was regret or pity or anger, she didn't know and couldn't open herself up to guess.

Poe's voice was kinder, but he wasn't going to let up: "Do you remember your how your parents fought, showed affection, worked-out problems?"

Rey shook her head, eyes on her lap. Ben made a sound, and when she looked up, his face was pained, hand palm up on the table between them, like he wanted to pull her across the table and into the safety of his arms. But the table was too wide, and her hands were still clenched on the armrest.

Poe turned to Ben, and Rey was grateful for the minute to pull herself together. "Ben: is it ok for someone in a relationship to yell at their partner?"

He answered, eyes like burned steel, voice nearly a growl: "Of course not, why would you think I would?"

Poe interrupted: "Did your parents shout -- at each other, at you?"

Rey pried her eyes away from her hands and glanced up to see Ben nod, once. Her heart felt like somehow hand run a knife down it and she found herself unclenching her fist, raising it onto the table. Still too much distance, but he caught her movement; he had to have.

Then Poe's tone changed, something sly, something teasing coming into it: "And if I was playing counselor and at the end of this, I told you to make-up with Rey, what would you --"

Ben interrupted: "Rey's been very clear she doesn't want to --"

And then he stopped himself, eyes going to the napkin he'd tucked under his plate, tugging it onto his lap and beginning to twist it into a knot, refusing to finish the sentence.

Poe broke in, laughter underpinning his voice: "Tell Rey what 'make-up' meant in the context of  your parents?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Ben said darkly to his lap.

If Rey couldn't see the smile on Poe's face -- part making-fun, part untarnished fondness -- she would have known it from the warmth in his voice: "The rumor on base is that one Ben Solo was born, oh, nine months after one particularly spectacular fight between the General and Han."

Rey cheeks flushed pink and she couldn't meet Ben's eyes. She tucked her hands beneath her legs and looked out the window to the sounding sea, tracing the white flashing line of the waves as they rushed and brushed against the stern blankness of the shore.

Poe turned to Finn, the tone of an answer in his voice as he gestured between Rey and Ben: "Between the two of them, they haven't seen one actual, functional couple at close range in their entirely too exciting lives; so talking about couple's therapy stuff isn't going to help. They're building the speeder while racing it;" He leaned forward, looking between the two of them. 

"For what it's worth: we've all been watching you two, and haven't said anything about your way of doing things, because, for the most part, you're doing a good job." Rey glanced up at him, catching Ben's surprised face look as he turned towards the other man, hands still knotted in the napkin. 

Poe nodded to confirm: "You've been taking care of each other, watching out for the other, keeping your tempers in check most of the time; it's not like this stuff is unlearnable, but stuff like today, well, it's what happens when you have nothing to go on but gut instinct and the flying by the seats of your weirdly-matching robes." 

He looked over to Finn. "That's why we'll talk about this like an after action report. Dissecting today like they're a married couple on base one of whom slapped the other will assume they know in here," and he tapped his chest, "what 'ok' looks like; and they just don't. They'll get there, but I think we know that neither of them struck out today as part of some shitty abuse cycle; I think there's something else. But!" He said, clapping his hands, "We need to make sure we all agree on what happened. So, Finn, you know the least, so you go first."

"What you said makes sense," Finn said, not wanting to be put off, voice a tad uneven with the margaritas. He glanced at Rey: "I didn't have a good model either, for what it's worth; but Poe's right, it's hard to make this stuff up as you go along."

Poe nodded, smiling a bit. "Good thing I had awesome parents and you're a quick study." He quirked a smile at Rose, inviting her in.

She said:  "My parents were great, loving and they worked things out with their words. The only time I saw them argue was when the First Order," and she glanced at Ben, but he was still looking at Poe, thoughts moving too fast across his face for Rey to see. Rose finished the thought: "When the First Order started bombing our system for target practice; he wanted to leave, and she didn't. They stayed and rode it out." 

Poe nodded reaching his hand out for hers which she took with a smile, squeezing hard. Then Poe gestured to Finn to begin his report.

"Ok," Finn said, then rubbed his hands through his hair. "Ok, first: Ben asked where Rose was, then went running into the woods. I took off running after him,"

"Leaving Rey floating and unable to swim," Poe said, voice gentle even as the words were hard. 

"I am _really_ sorry about that, Rey," Finn said, leaning towards her, voice sounding damp, "I just got so worried for Rose, and --"

Rey shook her head. "No harm, no foul."

Finn bit his lip, but continued: "Ok, so Poe and I run off, trying to follow Ben, but he's going, like _crazy_ fast --"

"He was using the Force to increase his speed," Rey added. "I was there, I was in his head while he was running."

Finn's eyes widened a touch, but he took this in stride, saying: "Then we hear this rancor going nuts, and then nothing, just the freakiest kriffing silence you've ever heard, but like, I could feel my  _bones_ melting from the fear of it, the smell in the air the -- musk. It was something awful. Then we hear something smaller coming through the bushes, and it's _Ben_ and he's covered in leaves with mud on his elbows and knees and monster spit _everywhere_ and carrying _Rose_ and he hands her off and then starts running back towards the beach."

Finn took a deep breath, lacing his fingers together one finger at a time -- pinky to pinky, ring finger to ring finger, middle to middle -- then starting over again. He took a breath and let it out hard: "Backing up -- Ben and I had worked out together that morning, and I'd done something -- I hadn't meant to. Anyway, I was surprised how calm he was, like he hadn't just gone toe-to-toe with some horrible monster -- the slime from it was still on his _jacket_ \-- and so when I got to the beach, and he was _standing over Rey_ ," he twisted his finger together. "I just snapped. It was like every nightmare I've ever told you about," he said to Poe, "Like being on Starkiller again, except it was Rey in the sand and not me in the snow. So I started running towards them, and then Rey --"

And he made a big whooshing motion with his hands, nearly knocking over his margarita, looking at Rey with a mix of wonder and fear in his eyes: "You blew up like half the beach, and then Ben was on his back, but the air was like snow and I can't risk that he's gone around the banana-bend, so I try and stop him for going near you again, and I'm sorry about that too, Ben, I didn't want to grab you, but I thought --" And he twisted his mouth, stopping himself from repeating either apology or accusation.

Finn regrouped: "Ben's on the ground, I have him in this arm hold, again, I'm sorry;" and Ben nodded, in acknowledgment if not accepting the apology. "Then Solo goes limp and starts staring at Rey, in that way they do when they're talking mind-to-mind, then he tells her says, real low and focused and  _scared_ , like he could see what was going on in her head and it was crazy. And he says: 'Four things you can hear,' and calls her ' _theesa_.'"

Poe made a funny sound but Finn was on a roll and kept going: "And Rey had been looking like something awful was happening behind her eyes, body twisting in on itself, hands," he made claws and scrabbling motions against the thick tablecloth, "But Ben was so focused on her; just on her. Like it didn't matter that I had him in an armbar, even though _I know_ he hates being held down as much as Rey does. But Ben kept talking to her, and she kind of, unwound? She calmed down, and she named four things she could hear, and then they went back-and-forth some more, and then she told me to let him go."

Finn shook his head, about to continue when Poe held up his hand. He was glancing between Ben and Finn, biting his lips, a smile pushing past his best efforts. Everyone else was quiet and his voice was loud over the sound of the waves outside:

Poe asked, enunciating each word carefully: "You called her _'theesa'_?" 

Ben's eyes narrowed and he shook his head, just a little, but said: "Yes."

Poe couldn't contain himself, lowering his face to the table and guffawing into the tablecloth, arms protecting his head from Ben's baleful glares. Rey tried to catch Ben's eye, but he was looking at the table now, pulling threads off his scrunched-up cerulean linen napkin.

"What does 'theesa' mean?" Rose asked, leaning over to Finn, who shrugged his shoulders. Everyone was staring at Poe; Ben's stare the least friendly of them all. Poe slowly subsided, gripping a stitch in his side as he sat back up.

"It's, ah," and he glanced at Ben's glower before trying to control his voice and mostly failing: "It's what the General used to call him, when he was tiny. It's Ewok for 'baby'; or maybe 'sweetheart.' "

Ben looked at Rey then slunk low in his seat, color rising in his cheeks. Rey cocked her head at him and felt her mouth move; stiffly for a second, then broader. A smile felt unnatural after these serious hours, but it never felt more natural than when it was directed at Ben. She said, voice low:

"I've never had a pet name before." She caught his startled eyes as he glanced up at her, pulled-back hair bouncing in its braid. "I don't mind it, if it means something good to you." Ben ducked his head, hands in his lap, flush moving up his cheeks, looking uncomfortable. 

Rey decided that was sign enough for her that was enough boy teasing for an evening. She looked at Poe: "At least _my_ pet name is pronounceable in polite company. You think I don't know what you call Finn? Do _you_ want the rest of the class to know too?"

Poe Dameron low chuckles died in his throat; then  Rose broke in, looking over at Finn:

"When Ben got to me, he was really calm too; like, weirdly calm." She glanced at Ben, before continuing. "Is that -- is that a new thing? Because I thought -- " and she looked embarrassed, but continued, Poe's eyes on her: 

"Look, people talk, and Kylo Ren's tantrums were _legendary_ with the military contractors on my planet; they would tell 'were you there when' stories about him -- about you -- " she said, glancing at Ben, "You smashing-up some critical piece of tech before a demo or Force-choking some poor lackey when he didn't get the specs on time. But it sounds like," and she waved her hands between them: "It sounds like Rey was having a rage-out and Ben talked her down."

She turned to Rey. "Rey, I though Jedi were supposed to be insanely calm, but if you blew the kriff out of the beach, that sounds like you've got a temper. Is that new?"

"No." Finn said, a bit too quickly. "She nearly whacked my head off my shoulders the first time we met."

Rose pushed, glancing an apology at Rey but determined to know: "But that was with BB-8 telling her you were a thief and she didn't know you. Has Rey gotten scary like that since?"

Finn was shaking his head -- "I wouldn't say 'scary,' but," and he glanced at his friend, before saying quickly: "When we came for Ben, she talked these monsters of guards down, was crazy calm the whole time, but then, we'd gotten him out, but she went back, with the lightsaber out, and -- " he he trailed off, not wanting to continue. Poe prompted:

"I wasn't there, but whatever it was, it was enough to scare them so badly they gave the entire garrison up for trial." He looked at Rey.

"Did it feel like today, when you did whatever you did to scare them?"

And Rey shook her head, hair brushing her shoulders. She could feel Ben's eyes on her, but she couldn't look up. She didn't know how he would feel, about what she'd said to the Sergeant. She remembered the look of confusion in his eyes as she left him battered and in Chewie's arms, left him to make her threats over the body of the man she'd sliced in half. She felt that long night's  anger rising in her chest, pushing up against her diaphragm. 

"It wasn't the same. That night; that was all me, all my anger. I told the Sergeant, Barda I think was his name, I told Sergeant I had ways of finding out what is happening in Chriss prisons and that if I have not heard, within the next month, that every single bastard who laid a finger on Ben was dead or wished he was, I would return. And they will see a side of me they will not like." There was quiet in the dining room for a moment before Rey added, voice hard. "And I meant every kriffing word."

Poe nodded slowly. "I'm sure you did." 

Turning to Ben, who was staring at Rey like he'd never seen her before. Poe said: 

"Rose is right -- you've been a lot calmer than I expected on this trip." He glanced at Rey, "Ben and I were talking about it, right before you came in for dinner," he looked at Ben again, "I pushed you about it and you implied you thought Rey would kick you out if you got mad, that you needed to keep your shit on lockdown to stay with us." Poe leaned across the table, Ben's jaw clenching as he tore another thread from the napkin: "It sounded like you're trying to force yourself to be someone you're not, trying to be something else to make us -- to make _Rey_ \-- happy -- "

"I was _trying_ ," Ben said, voice a tight rumble, leaning forward over the table, "to be _good_."  He shook his head, arms going across his stomach. "You don't want to know the kind of person I am when I'm not trying; the monster clawing his way through my skin." His voice was strangled, twisting in this throat. "He's not someone you could get along with; cook mariscos with; work-out with. Kylo Ren would have let Rose die. Kylo Ren is not someone Rey would keep around, he -- " and he bit down on his next words, forcing his breathing slow and slower, sound harsh against the gentle shush of the waves against the shore.

"If she doesn't keep me, I have no where to go." The entire table froze at his bleak tone. "This is the only place I've been safe, anyone's given a kriff about me, in over a decade. You think I'm going to jeopardize that, for what?" He made a strangled noise. "To act out, to make a mess of some control panels, to hurt people I want to be around? Whatever it is I need to do to stay here, that's what I'm going to do." Ben each word like he was laying down a brick in a wall between him and a war, words clipped and stubborn, jaw tight. "I don't need to 'be myself' more than I need a place to sleep and people around me."

Rey stood up. She stepped out behind her chair, Jyndan Ingo's letter digging into her skin through her pocket as she moved. She picked the chair up and dragged it behind her as she walked around the table so it left dark grooves in the white plush carpet. When she reached Ben, she sat down beside him and put her hand out on her armrest, palm-up. Confusion ran across Ben's face. She wiggled her fingers on the dark wood. Slowly, eyes on hers, he reached out, putting his fingers in the center of her palm and sliding them into place between hers; the warmth, the softness of it making her stomach clench. She took a breath, and heard him do the same. She looked around at the entire table, then turned her back on them, looking only at him:

"You _are_ good." She said, voice low and fervent, voice full of a conviction that pulled Ben closer, made him lean forward in his seat. "You _are_. I will not send you away. You could not make me. I would not, even if you weren't good. You have a place here, with us." She refused to look away from his wide, dark eyes, but saw nods from the others. "You don't have to be afraid or only show happy feelings or --" 

His voice was harsh, a near whisper, as hoarse as when she'd first met him under the water: "But I am afraid. All the time." And she leaned over their hands, pressing her forehead to the back of his palm, the nick in his knuckle from the guard's tooth his newest scar against her skin.

She looked up and he was so close. Her other hand moved to press against his, to wrap it entirely in her hands, gripping him hard, trying to tell him with everything she had that she would keep him here as long as he wanted.

"Ben," came Poe's voice came, it felt like from a distance: "If you were free, what would you do?"

And Rey was so close to him, she could feel him seize-up, nearly feel him thinking, running through answers. Then he seemed to sigh, rolling his shoulders back, something like honesty in his voice:

"I don't know -- probably sleep for a week." She must have made a sound of concern, since his eyes slid to her and he answered her unspoken question:

"It feels like -- I don't know. If you don't see me, see me trying, you'll forget --"

He didn't finish the sentence. Rey nodded, thinking. She said:  "I've been surprised you've been out and about with us," she said, "I thought for sure you were going to be caved-up, reading in the cottage the first few days."

He pulled back, looking at her questioningly.

Poe broke in: "I think you have a lot more lee-way with us than you might have been assuming; we're not going to assume you're going darkside if you take naps. Anything else you'd do?"

Ben paused, mouth twisting, and then finally said: "Probably run the perimeter in the mornings. To check to make sure the rancors aren't encroaching." He looked around the table at each of them, eyes steady. "I'd been assuming if I went into the forest on my own, you all would think I was trying to escape; but the rancors are only going to get closer. Today won't be the last time we cross paths with their kind."

Poe's eyes were a little wider, but it was Rey who answered, voice firm:  "We're on an island. There's nothing wrong with you going for a run." She took a breath, hand steady on his shoulder. "But it might be safer if we ran together; two pairs of eyes are better than -- "

And Ben moved, his arms going around Rey's back, hands firm on her shoulders as she melted against the rough fabric of his jacket, the cooking smells in his hair, the soft brush of his skin against hers. The pressure and contact, the washes of emotion between them receded for a moment, leaving something clear on the shore. Something she hadn't been able to see, an arc between what happened that afternoon and what it meant.

"You said Force-rend was for darksiders only, right?" she said into his shoulder. He nodded, braid trailing across her shoulder, still not pulling away. She continued: "And the hiding thing, it's for lightsiders only?" He nodded again. She gripped their hands and pulled back, slow, glancing at the others.

"Maybe, you locked yourself away from the darkside, trying to be only good, slammed that hatch closed so tight that even when it was life-or-death you couldn't get it open?"

He paused for a long in-breath, then let it out, the sound shuddering slightly. His voice was quiet: "I wouldn't do that intentionally," he said, slow to believe. She nodded, continuing:

"And we've been sharing emotions, like water shared between two bowls. When you're overflowing, yours pour into me, give you some space to breathe through them. Maybe when I've been giving you some of my calm, you've been giving me -- "

"Passion -- " he said. 

"Rage," Poe and Finn said together. Rose just looked between the two of them, eyes considering.

There was a quiet for a moment, then Poe broke in, voice low and even:  "Sounds like you two have some Force-stuff to discuss. But to finish-up on what happened today -- Rey, you're going to need to control your temper and any parts of Ben's temper that slosh over and not make things physical; not for any reason. Not ever, no matter if it's actually your temper or Ben's." He waited for her to nod her understanding. "And Ben, you can't keep pushing your temper into a corner, since it seems to be leaking over to Rey; you'll have to figure something else out."

He looked between them, Ben leaning his shoulder against hers, warm and solid. Rey could feel his pulse in her veins again, could feel her heart kicking against her sternum;  _alive and here, alive and here_. Poe's voice was firm though:

"Ben, you should still stay with us tonight; some breathing room never hurt anybody. And like I said, we've been watching you two and we'll keep watching. If anything looks like it's going wrong, we'll say something; if it's something we can't see, won't see, either of you can ask me or Rose. You're not alone; neither of you."

He looked at them and waited for Ben to nod.  Then he clapped his hands. "Everyone ready for dessert? I'm ready for dessert." And Poe stood, walking back to the tile bar to get the plate of cookies. He turned around and then walked to Ben, giving him first pick. His voice was low, understanding, and Rey looked away as he spoke:

"For what it's worth, there's a lot of space between acting-perfectly-chill-all-the-time and letting the monster free. You can have bad days and still have a place here. With us."

Ben's eyes were wide as he took a sugary cookie. Poe put the platter on the table and reached out, clasping the other man's shoulder for a moment before passing the plate.

They crunched their cookies quietly, the party breaking up soon after. Rey stood and moved towards the front hallway, everyone else staying seated, eyes on her.

She was just in the darkened hallway when heard a noise behind her and then it was Ben, Ben with a startled look, Ben stepping closer to her and giving her a second to back away, to create distance, to reject -- and she dove into his chest, so purely glad for this second that he was here, he was with her, he was _safe_. They could figure the other stuff out; she would get better, he would feel safer; it all seemed a universe closer with him in her here between her two good arms. He held onto her just as tight, as if he were thinking those same thoughts, feeling those same unnamed yearnings.

His voice was a quiet hush in her ear in the darkness:  "Growing-up, we would hug people we cared about; that's how we showed it."

She buried her face in his chest, squeezing him even tighter than before. To the fabric of his old shirt, she whispered: "I don't know what my family did."

He smoothed his hand under her hair, down the knobs of her back, as the others cleared the table in the living room, the gentle clinking of cutlery shimmering through the still sea air.

"We'll figure it out." He said and she let out a quick gasp -- not a sob, not a laugh, but a feeling like a splinter being pulled from her heart, blood rushing in, clean and safe.

"You _are_ good," she said, fingers splaying across the base of his spine. "You _are_. Good and not-so-good, just like me."

He pulled back, looking her in the eye, back of his hand tracing down the side of her neck. "Theesa, I could work my whole live and never be as good as you."

She shook her head. "Hard disagree." She said stubbornly, and he chuckled, the sound light and fluttering up her ribcage as it moved through his body. The Rey heard Poe clear his throat, saw his silhouette at the end of the hallway, and she moved away, the letter untouched in her pocket, the pale moon giving her only the pale curve of Ben's face as she turned away.

\--

Rey walked through the cottage they had been sharing. There was too much sand on the floor, too much ocean smell in the air. She felt itchy, untethered; the moonlight too bright and the stars not bright enough. She sat on the couch; but his book was still there, the history of Alderaan he'd purloined from her. She jumped to standing, pacing.

She went for a glass of water, then changed her mind. She moved down the hallway, passing the door to his room. She saw herself, sliding in there, slipping between the sheets that smelled like him, tossing a thread of her awareness across the sand to him, letting him know she was thinking of him, _wanting_ him -- and shut it out. She'd _pushed_ him on the beach, today. She'd acted out because she wasn't in control, and he'd been tired all these days without telling her, and she wasn't going to push any more of his boundaries tonight or ever again if she could help it.

She pulled the door of his room that last bit closed, and slipped into hers. But without him on the other side of the wall, the shape of the air tasted wrong. She'd never replaced the screen over the window after jumping through it that morning, so it was the work of seconds to grab her blanket, her staff, and her pillow, hop the window-sill, and tucked herself against the wall of the house, nestling into the still-warm sand.

The sand here felt comfortable, solidly-unsolid in the way she could always rely on. Sand didn't mind if she didn't know how to care for someone, didn't know how to act right in a relationship; sand didn't care if she had trouble controlling her temper or nearly-untameable feelings of wanting. Sand was sand. It would still be sand when she was dust and bits of bone.

She found a dark comfort in that and settled back, letting the cold rush of the seaplain drift her off to sleep.

\--

"Rey." She heard a voice calling, a few feet away and so, so high up.

"Rey." It repeated. She ducked her head more firmly into her pillow, feeling the comforting slide of sand under her sheet. She heard him kneel, because she always knew it would be him who would find her. She felt her head lift up, then settle back down, her pillow moving as he leaned back against the pale stucco wall of the house.

"Did you sleep out here, theesa?" He asked, voice soft, hands drifting to her scalp. She hummed a yes, and snuggled closer to him, refusing the urge to rise to wakefulness, refusing to think about _why_  she was enjoying the new warmth at her back so very, very much even though the reflected daylight was now on her face.

His fingers traced through her hair, sliding apart the sleep-tangles and laying them out, branch by branch across the pillow. She moved, letting him gather her hair away from her neck. _Stars, but his hands felt good_. She counted herself still too sleepy to be accountable for that thought. He smoothed his fingers through her hair long enough until there were no tangles, and her thoughts were coming tragically clearer. Still; she stayed laying against his knee, eyes closed against the brightening sun behind the cottage, her arm flung-out over his knees.

"This is something we would do, too," he said, voice barely louder than the shushing of the waves. "Just my Mom and I, really; but like Dameron said, I guess I'm doing this because it's something that meant affection to me, growing up."

Rey giggled, thinking of the General braiding Han Solo's hair. She didn't share the image, but Ben's joined her in the chuckle, the sound coming loud and clear to her through the breadth of his chest. She shivered warmly at the sound-sensation.

"I didn't say it yesterday, during Poe's debrief," he said, and she froze, stilling under his fingers; but his hands kept moving, gently arranging her hair into something elegant and off her neck, a layered plait. 

"I didn't say -- I've felt safe here. You make me feel safe, Rey. Safe and free in a way I haven't felt in my entire life." He hummed in the back of his throat, bringing in a new section of hair. "And it's taken me this long to realize there's nothing I did to deserve it --" and at this, she was finally moving, opening her mouth to object; but he tapped his fingers against her hairline and she subsided, deciding to let him finish his thought. 

"That's not the way I want to say it." He took a breath. "It's taken me this long to realize that your goodness does not depend on my behavior." There was a sound of shifting cloth above her, like he was nodding to himself. "It's not a transaction, where I have to keep earning my keep. You really would keep me, keep me safe here, safe from hurting other people, safe from the monsters I've carried around inside my whole life, no matter what I did." And his voice was so quiet now.

"And that's why I feel safe. I know I can trust you to keep me from hurting other people. I never had anyone I could trust to do that before, so I just made sure to only have broken people around me, so when I broke again, no one good would get hurt. Snoke told me control was weakness, that being unable to stop myself was power. When I tried to remember that wasn't the only way, he always knew. He could always tell. I think that was the conflict you saw in me, the tiny piece of me that remembered this, this pain, this wasn't the only way."

He smoothed his hand across her scalp, the sensation different and stronger now her hair was in these tight, intricate braids: "But I wanted to control it, tried, badly, over the years. But I never did and people suffered; people died." He took a hard breath through his teeth. "I killed people." She felt a chill, but he was still talking. "And I should be held accountable for that. But I think, now, no matter how the trial goes, if I could learn that actual control, not just stuffing it in a box, it would be good. I want to do it; not to prove something. I _want_ to be in control of it, the way you're in control of your rage; I've seen the power that comes of chaos, and it's not a path I think I can continue on; not anymore."

She took a quiet breath, and opened her eyes. The sun was behind the cottage, about to peek over the edge, haloing his strong features. Ben's hair was loose around his cheeks, and she realized he must have taken-out his hair ties to finish the style he put on her. He was wearing a dark grey shirt, one she recognized -- it was one of Finn's shirts, flowing and comfortable. His expression set her heart pounding in her chest like she'd been racing through the forest, his face was so open, eyes steady on hers. She reached up, running her fingers up the scar she'd left on his cheek and into his thick hair, watching him cat into it, his eyes drifting shut lazily as she worked her fingers close to his scalp, to the feeling of warmth and closeness it always gave her to touch him.

"I won't let you hurt anyone," she said, voice hard in a promise they both knew she could keep. "I understand that fear. I will keep you safe. And I'll be here, as long as you need me."

He nodded, eyes opening again. "I won't let you hurt anyone either."

"Including you." She confirmed.

"Including me." He agreed. For a long moment, they looked at each other, a rumbling hum drifting up and down her body, wanting this moment to shift, to be something different, closer, making her feel like an engine that was just slightly out of balance, jumbling along but steady, like she could do it for lightyears and lightyears, repairing as she flew. 

She shifted, and felt the letter in her pocket. She didn't want to ruin this unexpectedly wonderful morning, the best way of waking up she could ever remember; but she'd put this off for too long.

"I have something to tell you," she said, and he frowned just a bit at her tone, hands still moving in her hair.

She reached under her blanket to pull out the letter. She took a deep breath and said:

"Before Chewie left, I asked him to send a letter to Jyndan Ingo; your mother mentioned you might need a lawyer, and you seemed to like the idea of meeting him." He looked like he was going to interrupt, but she pushed on: "I asked him if he would be your lawyer, and asked if the Chriss would let him go for the duration of the trial," at the name of his former captors, Ben's face closed-down some, but his eyes were still focused on hers. She continued: "Ben, he said yes. He wants to meet you. He said he's been in communication with the ysalamiri and knew something of what happened on Nauticus; but he also said, there's something, some kind of evidence back on Nauticus, that could help the case." She took a deep breath. "He wants to meet us -- meet _you_ \-- there in six days."

She handed him the paper, and watched him unfold and read it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, and she couldn't quite guess at his tone.

"I didn't want to get your hopes up, and really, I didn't entirely know what I was going to write before I wrote it. You can say no or we can ask him for more time."

Ben shook his head and flashed her a smile -- crooked, shining, and _real_. She settled back against him as he re-scanned over the letter. "It's a good idea -- at the very least, he could fill-in some gaps I have about the decision to attack Alderaan, gaps that the history I've been reading doesn't really touch on."

She frowned at his focus and he said softened, growing a bit more serious: "It's a good idea because he could be a good attorney, at whatever trial the resistance puts together for me and the guards."  He frowned deeper, hands moving in her hair again: "But I don't relish the thought of going back to Nauticus."

Rey shivered, and this time not with pleasure. "Me either."

She paused, thinking. "We'll go armed. We have some time to prepare. If it's some kind of trick, we'll get out of there right away."

"With what shuttle?" Ben asked. "Chewie won't be back for 7 weeks."

Rey smiled. "I think it's time to update the General."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what it is worth, what Ben does to the garlic in this chapter is 100% a verbatim recreation of what my friend -- a PhD candidate in physics and lifelong doofus -- did to my cutting board when I assigned him to chop three (3) garlic cloves for a chili I was making us. About 30 minutes, he had chopped zero (0) cloves and ruined my 5th-best cutting board.
> 
> I added 2 more chapters to this arc, because I think that's what it's going to take. Thanks for staying on this ride with me and please let me know what you think in the comments!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for the first scene, where there's a remembered sexual assault and for later in the chapter, where Ben talks about what happened on Yavin IV; little kids died, so please let me know if I can summarize if you'd like to keep-up with the plot-point but not read about it.
> 
> I'm trying to get back to weekly updates, so keep an eye out for this weekend. This is a big update, so please enjoy and I love, love, love your comments, so please keep them coming!
> 
> This chapter is a bit different -- we finally get to hear the story Ben's been mentioning since the last arc from _Tales as Old as Time_. It's a retelling of one of my favorite Greek myths, and how about, the first person to guess it in the comments, I'll write a drabble on the setting of your choosing and post it as a reply.

There were hands, on hers; hands holding her down. Facedown. She could smell the sand, the rotting metal of the bars, the sweat. Their sweat. She was fighting; she was always fighting. She always fought. As if it could help. As if it mattered, like it would be worse if she didn't; or better. She could never remember. Better or worse; but what was worse that this, twisting,  _tearing_  -- and she yanked herself out of the dream and off her back, hurling her covers to the floor, hunching bare shoulders against blows from years ago, that she _knew_ had hit a Rey planets away from this warm moonlit on Lehon. She forced herself to sit-up, her body stiff and aching, pain radiating from her hips -- from the backs of her hands where they'd been smashed into the ground over and over and over --

"Rey?" someone gasped. Ben gasped. Ben was in her doorway, breathing hard, hand braced on the frame like he'd sprinted when he felt her dream.

Had he seen -- "Ben, oh stars. Ben, I'm so sorry, I didn't -- "

"Are you ok?" He interrupted and Rey pressed her hand over her eyes, trying to still the shaking between her lungs. One breath. Two. Then three. She opened her eyes: he was still on her lintel, the just-risen moonlight gilding the edges of him under his night clothes. Her voice was small when she asked: "What did you see?" 

His mouth twisted in sympathy, eyes steady on hers, as he still sounded out of breath: "I fell asleep on the couch -- I was there; whatever you saw."

Rey shoved her palm hard up her cheek and into her hair, nails grazing the soft skin of her scalp, trying to get herself here and not there, telling herself the past was a dead land; she would do anything right now to keep it that way. 

"You can go back to bed. I'll be fine."

She heard him start towards her across the rag rug carpet, then stop; just out of her reach.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asked, voice even. She looked out the window; the moon had barely moved since she'd gone to bed. It had been 6 days since the rancor attack and the General's contact would pick them up at dawn and get them to the shuttle for the trip to Nauticus. Even with fear of what they'd find on the prison planet, she'd gone to bed calm; calmer than Ben had been for sure. He'd been reading in the living room when she'd called it a night, face tense even as he wished her a good night. She'd felt good, going to bed. She didn't know what she'd done to deserve that nightmare. Sometimes it felt like they were waiting, waiting until things were calm, until she was safe as she was going to be, waiting until things were going right before ripping her mind apart, ripping her to pieces.

She shook her head, hair loose on her shoulders, hiding her eyes and smoothing her hands over her knees, trying to shake the nightmare's grip: "I should probably just go back to bed."

"That's just what I like to do; go back to sleep right after a nightmare," he said, his voice gently teasing, "It really gives them a fighting chance to snag their claws in deep, to just sink their hooks in." 

He took another step forwards, reaching out, waiting for her: "Come on, Rey, let's go for a walk."

She looked up at him, shaded in moonlight, shadows over his eyes but a twinkle still visible; all his face's collected angles softened by the dark; or maybe just for her. And she found herself standing, moving around him to grab a long jacket, shoving her lightsaber deep into its pocket. When she nodded, he went through the door first, picking up his jacket from where it looked like he'd wadded it into a pillow -- and something else from beside the couch -- the leather bound _Tales as Old as Time_. He tucked the book into his jacket pocket and headed towards the door. 

Rey thought there was something odd about how they were moving around each other, and thought about it for a moment as she pulled on her tall boots. She realized: he had been keeping between her and the windows; just now, he was standing on the doorstep, looking out, giving her his back, scanning the treeline and the beach, looking back and down to her to check she was close-by. He was making sure they were safe so she could take her guard down. She felt a wave of gratitude so strong she pressed her eyes closed to feel it, to feel the rush of it; she could see the nightmare, see it hanging there, waiting in line, like it had waited for her --

"Rey," Ben said and she opened her eyes. He'd turned to look at her and his back was to the outside world for a moment, a dark shape before a wall of stars. "Let's go."

They went. They walked, away from the hot springs, away from the gouge in the sand by the lagoon, towards the lower curve of the bay where the bluffs rose high above the sounding sea. Rey hadn't gone back to the lagoon in a week and didn't know if she'd be going back after they got back from Nauticus. Ben had kept working on the hot springs, eating with her and the others, spending more time reading and sleeping than he had in the first week, looking and sounding better and better every day. But there was a careful distance between them that hadn't been there before the rancor. Rey felt a pressure behind her eyes and tried to keep herself there, counting the smells: salt, sea, a briny quality of the air; the Harmattan wind, flicking and flipping bits of white-white sand around them; the shape of him in his long, grey coat, beside her in this moment; beside, and a little in front.

He kept a space between them as they walked on the hard sand below the tideline, his eyes on the trees or on her; his energy was tense, like he was fighting his own nightmares as they walked. The cold sand had a comforting shiftiness beneath her feet and land rolled away beneath their purposeful strides. They came to a long spit of sand, protected from the waves by a large boulder out in the ankle deep waves. He looked at her and motioned with his head. She glanced up at the high tide mark; the rock would never be more than knee deep in the sea. She nodded, moving over the water-black sand and clambering up the rock, jagged edges digging into her palm in a satisfying way. When she came over the top, she gasped: the horizon was a perfect line dividing the star-crushed sky and the lightly reflective surface of a calm ocean, two perfect arcs to infinity. The wind brushed her hair back from her face and surrounded by surf and beside Ben, for the first time that night, she was safe in her own body.

She found a natural low bench just below the peak, carved by the wind or the rain or some unknown force, big enough for the both of them. She sat down, but Ben stayed standing, hands in fists at his side as he looked out over the ocean.

"I used to look at these stars," Ben said, voice rough, and she glanced up at him. His eyes had gone distant as he raised his arm, pointing out the shape of constellation she knew only from star charts she'd seen Finn making before they landed here. "I would plan out my routes, where I would get fuel, how much I'd need to get back --"

And his voice caught, his hand going to his chest. He bowed his head, talking to himself, "But I couldn't go home, could I. I didn't know where Snoke was, didn't know where the others I'd taken from Yavin IV were, what was happening to them -- but where could I go? Who would take me, keep me as anything more than a weapon? After what I thought I did, after what I did -- "

After a moment, he continued, going back to the start: "I would plan out the route -- go here and then there, do this for a few weeks; live. But I couldn't go back to the resistance, to the only homes I'd known, where I might have once earned any kind of welcome; I knew all of those were shut off to me. And I -- I didn't have your imagination, Rey," his voice was sad but there was something fond in it too, "I couldn't just imagine myself a mechanic or a house-builder, a worker or a scavenger. I thought I had to be playing a part in the story, and if I couldn't play a Jedi, well, there's only one thing Jedi become in my family, once they've done what I did."

Rey looked up, speaking slowly: "Are you thinking Ingo will ask about Yavin IV? Do you know what you're going to tell him; tell the rest?" He threw her a startled look, but then it looked like he made a decision, setting his shoulders back and preparing himself.

His gaze was fixed on the stars when he started the story: "I remember holding my hand up, my palm to the sky," he told the night as it lay over the waves. He held his hand up, like he was cupping the cheek of the wind, high above his head. He spoke next in a jumble, like he was trying to get his words out before they caught up with him.

"I was still in the light; was inside, sleeping, but there was a light inside, inside me. But when it happened, I could see the stars, could see them twist. I'd always looked for the light in the stars; never the blackness between. But in that moment, when it happened, and every one since then, it's been flipped for me. I can only see the blackness, can just barely see the stars. It wasn't something I chose, but I can bear to say is wrong either, even now -- there's so much more darkness in the world, than light. Darkness is what keeps the stars apart."

Rey sucked in a breath, pushing her shoulders back against the cold stone, Ben's voice so, so far away, heavy with painful knowledge.

"When I needed the darkness, it was there for me, Rey. My whole life, the darkness had seeped in, but in that moment, it wrapped around me, wrapped around Luke, wrapped around every living thing in the Praxeum. And it was a rush; I can say that, now, here: It was a rush. A second later, it was too much, so much more than I could handle, and it kept writhing up when I called, pouring out of my lungs, in my throat, drowning me from the inside out, and then I knew I had to, I _had_ to let it out, let it pour from me, and so when I closed my fist," and he did, and Rey felt a terrible chill, shivering as he continued: "When I closed my fist, it was around the entire Praxeum, around every living light there, wrapping darkness around them, letting it take up everything." He took a breath, and continued, voice still so  far away:

"The hut I was in came down; the building next to it came down; the entire temple came down." He ran his hand through his hair, back-and-forth, back-and-forth, leaving it wild and dark as the wind trailed her fingers across his face, "I still don't if that was just my darkness, if since the day I was born I was capable of killing everyone around me to save my own skin. Or it if it was Snoke's. Or if it was Luke's; that maybe I shared-in some his hatred and that's what filled me in that moment."

But then he shook his head, rough, like he was trying todislodge that thought by force,

"Those are bullshit excuses. What happened was this: my hands, my power, brought down the temple on the children sleeping there. Most were crushed instantly beneath it, others," he flinched at the next thought and Rey could _feel_ it then, some long pent-up dam of emotion breaking, what it had held back for so long rushing down like a river and she knew there was nothing he or she or anyone in this universe could do to stop it. He was in the middle of the story, in the thicket of pain of it:

"I dug through the rubble with my hands, trying to get to the sound of scratching, their life forces. Over and over again, I _heard_ them, _felt_ them grow cold and flicker out. It wasn't until I got to the lowest level where the littlest ones slept, that I realized why they were _still_ dying, when the rubble had stopped moving seconds after I'd -- I'd ripped the levy between the river and the temple down too, and they'd drowned. Been drowning, while I dug through the rubble with my hands because after I caused all of that destruction, with my hands because when I tried after, I couldn't life a single pebble with the Force."

He looked down at his broad palms, the jagged callouses from his lightsaber the only dark marks on his skin; Rey doubted it was his hand in this moment he was seeing as he said: "I got some out," he said, "and a few got themselves out. The ones who were strongest or just most afraid, the lightest sleepers. The hardest fighters. The Knights of Ren." And he made a choking sound, but Rey didn't reach for him; not yet.

He was still staring at his hands, turning them over and over, like he was asking them where they'd come from, like he was wondering what in him had touched them and made them into what they were. She might understand, now, why he'd always worn gloves when she'd seen him as Kylo Ren, what it had meant for him to give her his bare hand in the hut.

His face was drawn tight over his bones, closer to how he'd looked on Nauticus than he'd looked since they'd gotten him out. But he kept going, the anguish still thick in his voice: "We knew we couldn't get help; I'd smashed the communications tower when I let the darkness out. And what would we tell people -- that I'd killed Luke but it was an accident? Was it? Who would believe me?" 

He shook his head, trying to convince himself, even now. Rey wasn't so so, wasn't so sure Leia's son couldn't have found a way back home in those bloodied hours, told people some of what Snoke had done, told himself it was worth the attempt. 

"It seemed so clear," he said, answering her thought, "It was so clear, in here," and he tapped the side of his head, "That there was no way for me to go back home. I could hear the words so clearly in my head -- 'there is no more home.'"

His voice cracked and she wanted to tackle him back onto the rock, cushion him with her body, wrestle his sadness away from him. But she stayed down, stayed looking up at him, trying to let him to finish what he'd started, finish the story in a better way then he'd even telling it to himself all these years. He continued:

"So when Snoke's transport ships showed up after 5 days of us starving, scrounging in the woods, and they had with enough seats for all of us, we didn't question it. Four more kids had died, Rey, between when I -- I pulled the Praxeum down and when the First Order came for us. That's when they lit the whole thing on fire; when the First Order ships broke orbit. The others said it was my fault, all of them, but they didn't have anyone else to bring them to safety, so they followed me until they could swear oaths to Snoke, which they all did as soon as they could. The troops already had orders to drop me at Lehon and no one else said anything. The troopers told me from Snoke that, if I was good enough, I would get the chance to fight my way into a new home." 

His back was a long, harsh line behind the pale moonlight as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "And so I was left here," and he gestured, eyes going to the forest, "I came here and I starved and I fought and I killed rancors. I learned to to use the darkside like breathing; after a week, I lost the ability to heal; another week: hiding; one by one, all of the things I'd loved and been good at the Praxeum, I lost; until all I had were darkside skills. By the time they came for me, I'd lost everything else about that life, so when Snoke named me Kylo Ren," he shrugged, voice bleak. "What did giving up one more thing matter to me."

His hands went into fists. "But that makes it sound too simple, too inevitable. It wasn't."

His face was fierce when he turned to her, fierce and she couldn't look away: "Because even when I realized I couldn't heal, even when I found I couldn't hide anymore, when the rancors weren't screaming, when the ground wasn't too hard to sleep on, all I could see behind my eyes were those lights as child after child went into the darkness, alone and scared; all I could hear were their gasps beneath the water, beneath the tons of rock. And all I could think of were stories, the stories I'd grown up with, the ones I'd read the littlest ones in the Praxeum, that my Mother had read to me." And he gestured to the book in his pocket, and Rey's eyes swam for a moment before she got a hold of herself.

"It doesn't sound to me like you meant to hurt them. That's not the story everyone heard, Ben -- " And he was shaking his head before she could finish:

He continued, voice cracking: "There were over 70 kids at the Praxeum, Rey. Fewer than a dozen had their next birthdays. I'm a monster for doing that, no matter if Snoke made me or if I did it myself. I will always be a monster for that. No matter what anyone else thinks. I know that's true. But," and he closed his eyes, an aged kind of pain on his face, "I'm not the kind of monster who thinks violence should come without consequence." He opened his eyes, looking at her:

"I know I deserve punishment. I deserve execution or exile or hard labor or --" And Rey choked, hand going to her chest, hearing her breath wheeze and rattle, the thought of Ben before a firing squad or spaced suddenly too much, she was choking on the sea air and he was kneeling beside her, something in his face coming back, at least, a little, to her, to this moment together above the dark, star-scattered sea. 

He pulled her chilly hand from her chest, folding it between his warm hands, speaking softly: "I know you want me to be better, that that's why we're here. There are some things that nothing should heal; some wounds we're meant to carry the pain of. Not feeling that pain would be like forgetting the sounds of fingers against the underside of ceilings, fingertips against rock, scratching and scratching to get free. There's nothing -- and no one -- that can take that sound away, absolve me of it presence in the universe." 

She wrapped her hand around his wrist, anchoring him here, knowing there were no real words she could give right now. He bowed his head, speaking to the grey rock beneath their feet:"So what was one more village burned? What was one more battle, if at the end of it, people had the chance to live in a galaxy governed by rules, where no one had the power to take lives apart on a whim, where they could get justice from monsters like me?"

"That's how I started thinking, after the first week here. I was in the darkness, inside and out, for so long, Rey. But even in that depth, I had those stories, the ones from Alderaan, the ones that only live in memory;" he gestured to the book in his pocket. "I had assumed Han had thrown this away, until you showed it to me. When I could --here, in my chambers on the _Supremacy,_ anywhere I could catch a breath to myself -- I would try to remember these stories, not wanting this part of the past to die, this part of my past that Snoke didn't know enough about to vivisect out of me. I'd tell myself the stories, over and over, trying not to let them die, even if only in my own memory. It's amazing what you can remember, if you need it."

"But I wish I'd had this, this connection," he said, voice low, pulling the book out and running his hands over its embossed leather cover. His voice was almost lost in the susurration of the waves on the wet sand: "I wish I'd had anything to be keep tied to who I used to be."

He sat back, shoulder just barely separated from hers until, with a hard sigh, he relaxed against her, a line of warmth from down her arm to her fingertips where he'd tucked her hand in his. His too-long legs were splayed out over the wind-smoothed stone and he felt as tired as she did, eyes wandering over the waves, his memories spent. She glanced between him and the silver flickering edges of the waves.

"Read it me?" She asked, eyes on the shape of the moonlight in his eyes. There was a pause, like he was going to say no, like he was going to say they needed to head back, to try and get some rest before their shuttle arrived. But instead, she felt him move, his arm moving behind her back, giving her room to tuck herself up against his chest, then he pulled the book out and opened it on his lap. It opened to the first page she'd first seen, the black silhouette of a man, dark before an ocean of endless stars. His voice was made different by the story, rolling and low:

 

 

> "There was a light. Anima shone. Anima shone brightly from the day she was born and not the morning sky above, or the darkness below her feet, could change the light with which she shone. From the day she was born in a land that lay between the mid-country sun on Alderaan and the dark blue sea, the people around her huddled around her, hoping her light would bring them warmth. They praised her outside their marble temples and cheered her on festival days, sang for her in the harvest fields, and told her she was beautiful, because they believed that her light came from her outsides. 
> 
> Anima grew up tall and strong with long brown hair and blue eyes and skin made freckled by long days in her father's vineyards. She had two sisters who loved her light and loved how it shone back on them and, like little orbital moons, would swing and swing and try and sway her tides. But Anima was her own light and as much as she wanted to swing in the dance with her sisters, she always was apart. 
> 
> As she grew, Anima was noticed not just by her sisters, not just by those who took her to eat her first grapes, who combed her long hair, but by those who saw her across the fence in the fields as she tried to work, and those who they told, who came to look at her at the temple as she hid her face. 
> 
> Eventually, on temple days, Anima would escape to the catacombs beneath the temple, to trace her fingers along the bright mosaics on the tombs there, the reds and purples and blue chips of stone and glass and paint swirling in her tears. She would walk along the low, bright wall, reading in the mosaics stories of freedom and power, of safety and love, of gods and goddesses who lived forever and still cared for the least among them. While she walked in darkness, on great smooth grey stone steps of the temple where she tried to worship without notice, one man told another about her, told the stories until they reached an unwise man's ears.
> 
> That unwise man walked into the temple and held Anima up in his eyes as the form of a goddess and that goddess saw Anima's light in his eyes -- and hated it. She knew men's worship was a power and she saw that light in this girl and decided that she would snuff it out, for she wished to be the brightest light in the lives of the people in the galaxy. 
> 
> So the goddess sent her son to snuff Anima out, to make her fall in love with some man who would snuff her out, for this goddess believed that no woman who loved a man, no two people who loved each other, could ever be as bright as one, and that love could never be as strong as longing. And that once Anima was owned -- for that's how the goddess saw love -- once she belonged to someone, the longing of the men in the temples would cease and they would return to worshiping her.
> 
> The goddess sent her son, who was the god of love, called Amor, to shoot Anima with his arrows through the eye and though the heart so she would fall in love with the first one she saw and her light would be extinguished and darkness could rise around her, through her. And he went to do with mother's bidding, hiding in the fields where Anima could not see him, for all who saw him fell in a love they could not help, could not stop, and that was something he could not abide, not again.
> 
> He hid in the wheat fields where Anima worked bringing in the grain in the early autumn light, the smell of the cut stalks musky with eddies of chaff swirling in the air between them, and though he had for a million spins of their planet carried out his mother's tasks, this time, Anima caught the flicker of his arrow through the waving grain and ducked, hiding away beneath the golden stalks. He looked into her mind and saw that he was not the first she'd hidden from, for there are some men who wish to kill women who they want.
> 
> And then she was slashing towards him with her scythe, screaming not for help, but in her rage, her eyes held a lightness and a fury he'd never seen before. Amor had never seen a woman fight back so hard, fight to live, and he saw in an instant that despite the light that made people worship her against her will, she was not a vessel made of glass; she was made of iron; and the light wasn't a candle: it was a sword being forged. 
> 
> Amor knew he could not save Anima from his mother, for if he left her alive and unwed, his mother would send her brothers, who would just kill the young woman. And Amor knew he could not save her from the men in her village, because they were already plotting to marry or to extinguish her, whatever would take her out of their longing quickest. 
> 
> So the god fled before Anima's rage and that afternoon went to his mother. He begged to marry the girl and his mother considered it, tapping her mouth with her perfect fan. After long thought, she agreed, but decreed three conditions. One: Amor could only marry Anima if she never knew she was married to a god. Two: Anima could never saw her husband in the flesh so would never be captured by any of the powers of Amor's appearance. And three: Amor must continue his daily work as the god of love, even if that meant only having the bare hours of twilight to midnight to spend with his new love. Amor quickly agreed and went to Anima father in the guise of a messenger of a rich countryman to ask the family for her to marry him, providing a rich dowery. Her father accepted and Amor raced to build a villa for Anima Marriages like these could be conducted with only the consent of the father and the husband, so Anima was married that afternoon while she sweated to bring in the harvest long into the twilight. Anima's mother was pleased, and her father was pleased, and the men who wished to extinguish her were pleased that someone who lived in a big house far from them. 
> 
> And Anima burned and raged that this was to be her end, for she knew no man who had not spoken to her could know who she was; all he could know was her light and have no idea of the source of it.
> 
> She would leave in the morning, so in the night, she made a plan. If this husband touched her or scared her, she would take her dagger that she had forged in the dark of the night by her own light and she would kill him. Then she would take herself out into the wilderness and live alone, because at least then, no one's eyes could tie themselves to her like chains across the mouth of a statue.
> 
> And so, the next morning, Anima left. She packed her three trunks. She kissed her two sisters and her mother, and nodded to her father, though he had sold her away a nice set of couches, for a cow and several excellent pigs, and all she asked was that she be allowed to walk alone the day's journey to her new home. They watched her leave and did not follow her, did not offer to. She walked beside an old nag who hauled her cart, and with each step, each acre she passed, she said goodbye to the Anima who had known them.
> 
> When she arrived at the fence around her husband's villa, there were vineyards thick with blood red grapes. She did not eat them, for she did not know the welcome she would receive. 
> 
> And then there were flowers, towering heaps and piles of roses in what must have been rows once but were mostly mounds taller than her nag's head, full of smell and the sound of swallows. She did not pick them, for she did not know the welcome she would receive. 
> 
> And when she entered the rambling villa built into the side of a low hill, the atrium with its small fountain was surrounded by tables of food, hot and filling, and though she had not eaten all day, she did not now, because she did not know the welcome she would receive.
> 
> And then she unloaded trunks herself, going to the stables to find someone to help her bed down her nag. And though she found no servants, a stiff breeze unbuckled her horse's saddle, while another brought out the horse hair brush and still another tugged her arm, pulling her back into the villa, towards the tables and tables of sweet-smelling food. Whoever her husband was, he had some control over the spirits, the force between all living things.
> 
> And still she would not eat, but then there was a feeling, a touch of something beneath her chin, directing her gaze to the arcing lamp-lit ceiling, and Anima gasped: arching from the top of each and every column was a mosaic of such color, such delicacy, telling the same stories -- stories of freedom and power, safety and love -- as the one beneath her home temple, but sparkling-bright, undimmed by even a week of age. And she felt a comfort, a safety for the first time since she had left her home because this told her in a way that no one else could, that whoever it was that she had married knew something of her that could not be seen, could not be guessed.
> 
> And so Anima ate. She put her things away and then went into the gardens and pulled together a bouquet of gnarled and thorny roses and gathered some grapes for breakfast. And she walked until it was full dark and the stars stepped out into the nightime sky, twining between the hummocks of grapes, her hair down and free. She had stopped to pull a weed from between two vines' roots when from the other side of a tall arbor of grapes, and she heard a deep, soft voice:
> 
> "Anima."
> 
> She froze, and said: "That's me."
> 
> And he said: "I am glad you are here."
> 
> And then there was nothing. He did not come around; he did not burst through the arbor; there was nothing more. She stood for a long moment, when she went back to the house, to her room, and lined up every vase she had filled in front of her door and her window, tucked her dagger under her pillow, and went to sleep. And the next day she awoke with the dawning sky, she was well rested; no one had tried to get through the barred door, the wall of vases she had set before it were unbroken and the those on the sill likewise undisturbed. And so she ate the grapes she had picked and spent her day among the flowers, pulling weeds and starting a compost pile; she walked through the vineyards and asked the unseen hands around her for some pruning shears and found them around a bend. 
> 
> The day was hot and she was free. She tried to explore the house, but the air turned thick and too hot to breathe comfortably as she ventured down into the side of the hill against-which the villa was built. She forced herself onwards, seeing cloth doors and wooden doors, and finally, before she had to turn around or faint, she saw a great iron mask of a door, swirling with figures, radiating darkness and swirling warped eddies. As soon as she turned away from the door, she could breathe, smell the sweet, cool smell of the grapes and the roses, smells which drew her on and on, out and out, back into the sunlight, away from the dark door. When the darkness came, as she knew it always would, on the other side of a tall hedge of overgrown roses, she heard:
> 
> "Did you have a good day?"
> 
> She said she had. 
> 
> He said: "I am glad you are here." 
> 
> There was nothing more after that.
> 
> For weeks it went like this. She would walk in the fields, tending them, clearing room for the slimmer plants to grow, making rows between the hedges with her footfalls, never taking away the wildness of that place, but adding her own wildness to it. Everyday he would ask her a small question and she would answer.
> 
> For the first time since she was born, she could run without fear of being caught; she could lie in the grass without fear of some man deciding to woo her where she lay. She found herself smiling and singing songs -- for she sang so badly, her mother had always told her to avoid it, lest her glimmer be lessened in the hearts of those who heard the hoarse croaking of her voice. But she loved singing, loved the broken flow of music and the broken sounds she made.
> 
> And so Anima shone, because this house with its wide atrium and sparking inner fountain lacked the one thing she hated most in the world: watching eyes. Once the airy servants found she preferred to bathe in the stream and dress herself simply, the roving gusts of wind mostly left her alone, always packing her a basket to carry on her back of unspoiling food.
> 
> One day, she walked alone in the woods for hours, tasting the smell of fall leaves, though winter seemed no closer than it had those weeks ago. She walked and enjoyed the newfound strength in her legs, the weight of her knife in her hands. She followed small creatures on their tiny paths, watching as their paces quickened, feeling the familiar glances of fear from them, the same fear for she had borne for years and years; all prey animals breathe alike, in some ways at least.
> 
> As she walked, the day turned into dusk; before she had turned to make her way back to the house, dusk had turned to night, velvet dark and deep. She slung her basket of grapes and good, rich cheese to her back, hiked her long robe up into her sash, and hoisted herself up a thick-leafed oak tree to see if she could spot the lights of the villa. She found she could not, and climbed a story up further into the tree, finding an enclose nest of old dry leaves with a clear view of a perfect circle of crowing stars. She decided this was as good a place as any to spend her night, up away from the predators and out of the ground's damp.
> 
> She ate her dinner and listened to the night creatures come out: the mouse and the owl, the possoms and the swooping bats. As she half-hoped he would, before she nodded off she heard the gentle words come from above her, on a branch much too thin to support a grown man's weight:
> 
> "How was your day?"
> 
> "It was good," she said and carefully did not look up, knowing he craved his privacy as much as she treasured hers. She had long since stopped trying to spy him through the arbors, from between the tender leaves of the new roses.
> 
> "I can guide you home," he offered, and there was an undercurrent of laughter there, of fun-making; there was a sound a bit like the wind pushing two large branches together, a little like the rustle of fresh rose petals stirred by broad hands -- and she realized it was his chuckle, warm and only a little bit at her expense. But rather than getting her hackles up, she found herself smiling a bit; it was a little silly, getting stuck out in the woods because she'd been harassing woodland creatures. But she had more pride than she had time on this earth and pride had been the only thing that had kept her from being torn apart out those many, many years in the storms of others' emotions. She thought about his offer, thought about his soft voice, and then all she could see were the men who'd asked her to walk with them to the market or the temple, about how different he was, about how he had never made her afraid, never followed her when she wished to be alone. But her pride had kept her alive, and so she trusted what it told her -- that any man, even a kind one, who was too light to bend the thinnest branches, could hardly be trusted to remain kind in the dark of a forest.
> 
> "No, thank you," she said. "I'll stay here and walk back when it gets light."
> 
> He said nothing and so she moved her robe around, wrapping it warmly around her legs. The night was warm and she could feel the weight of the day lying warm against her.
> 
> "Would you -- would you mind if I stayed here?" He asked, voice less sure but no less deep, "There are things far foul-featured in these woods than I."
> 
> She paused; she hadn't thought him foul-featured, had made a point of not thought about the face of the man she'd married. She presumed him broad chested, from the depth of his voice; tall, from the direction of his voice spoke through the bushes and heaps of roses. She'd assumed his smile broad, from the way he sounded when she told him about her day. She assumed his skin was dark and weathered like hers, his hands well-worked in the soil, since he always spoke to her out of doors, where she could run or move from him if she felt she must. But foul? She had so rarely found anyone fair, in her world, in the light she brought into it; she had so carefully learned to mistrust beauty because of how it lay in her own skin, that she didn't think of it when it came to him.
> 
> "That would be alright. But let's us keep to our different branches. I don't believe mine can hold the weight of two hearts."
> 
> There as a sound of affirmation, and then silence. As always, she could not hear his breathing, the rustle of his hands on the leaves or his robes against the rough bark. She just leaned her back back against the thickest part of the tree behind her, tucked her legs more tightly around her branch, and closed her eyes.
> 
> If she had looked up to see if he was truly as foul-looking as he said, she would have been the silhouette -- not of a beast with slavering jaws and flesh-stripped wings -- but of a man of darkness in moonlight, the swirling infinity of the arcing sky behind him. Amor's was not a darkness Anima would have feared: he was the kind of darkness that nurtures seeds, the lulls babies to sleep, that gives peace to the dead and comfort to the weary. 
> 
> Anima awoke, more well-rested than she deserved to be for sleeping outside all night, to the crisp sound of birds and quiet movements of small animals down below. She stretched her arms until her shoulders creaked and then climbed back down with not a glance above her. She found the trail quickly, found the shape of it in the undergrowth in a way she had not been able to before. And she moved herself towards the house.
> 
> There was a fussiness in the breeze, the feeling of fingers on her face when she passed the fence line, and she greeted it with a smile, knowing the breezes must have been worried she had not come home the night before. There was a fresh basket of clothes beside the fountain in the atrium, fruit and food and a skin of fresh spring water from the deep flowing spring that fed the river int the back. She took it all, smiling and thanking the air, and then walked down to the river to bathe the last of the night from her eyes.
> 
> \--
> 
> For weeks they continued this way, speaking often but never laying eyes nor hands on each other. He began to tell her stories, folk stories about gods and goddesses, terrible animals and beautiful heroines and heroes, always framed as if he'd known the characters personally. Once, she felt the brush of his hand on hers as she walked through the garden at twilight, but when she spoke, his voice came to get from around a hedge and she could not bear to corner him, to force him to be seen when he so clearly did not want to be. 
> 
> When she had arrived, she had not brought candles, and over these long, ever-fall months, she had never had a need of them -- she had learned the grounds by touch and by moonlight. A small piece of her was sure that if he saw her walking with a light, he wouldn't come as close to her, wouldn't brush his hand soft against hers again.
> 
> And in those weeks, the garden grew, happier now there were fewer weeds, the roses twirling and twining in their thorny ways around the arbors, the grapes coming in again and again with bunches on bunches until she could not eat them all and she began thinking of barrels and casks of wine. But instead, she let them fall, let them grow into the land as well. But though she was freer than she had been in her entire life, though she was safer between the walls of their estate, after weeks and weeks of only the soft brushes of the servant spirits on her skin and the hope in his voice, she was left wanting the touch of a person; she missed her family, though they had sent her away. For days, she had convinced herself this too would pass; but it had not.
> 
> Three nights before the new moon, she decided she would ask this one thing of him. They had been talking for hours that night, him leaning against the post of an arbor while she worked the soil on its opposite side; she had long since learned that he had no gardening skills at all and it was far better for the plants if he kept her company rather than lending a hand. The rich, dark red grapes were hanging thick around her ears when she asked: "Might I have my sisters visit? Only for a few days."
> 
> There was a pause, and something like a sigh from the other side of the hummock of grapes.
> 
> "I fear it will bring change between us." His voice was sad as the last day of summer, cool like a breeze through withering grapes, bringing her the scent of something wild, something not from plants but from the man she was married to and had never seen.
> 
> She shook her head: "I will not let it -- I do not wish for our lives to change. Except," and here she paused, voice unsure in a way she had not felt since she had first come to this place.
> 
> He waited, his silence drawing hers out. She said:
> 
> "I wish I could touch you; I don't have to see you, but I would know how you feel."
> 
> And she paused and felt the world tilt, shift on its axis. There was an unhappy sound through the branches and she came to her knees, trying snatch her words out from the air.
> 
> "I'm sorry, I didn't --"
> 
> "This is the one thing I must ask of you," he said, "You cannot see or touch me. I am made of such a substance that your eyes might blind your heart, and, love, I could not live with that. Not from you. Please, Anima, do this for me."
> 
> And she nodded, so quick to agree, so sure she could. So sure and so wrong.
> 
> \--
> 
> Her sisters came at once, of course. They marveled at the roses and plucked more than they needed for the vases she'd brought into the atrium for them, carefully filling them from the little fountain before they arrived. They asked where the chicken for their dinner had come from and Anima felt foolish she had never asked. They said the grapes were reedy and untamed and she said nothing, though she loved their coarsely-woven groves. They slept all in her same bed, and though their elbows bumped her and their feet were cold, she felt a sliver better once they were snoring gently beside her, for she had dearly missed the smell and touch of home.
> 
> On the second day, her younger sister asked: "Where is your husband?" And Anima did not know what to say, because they had insisted the night before on not walking in the garden after dark, saying they were afraid of beasts, and she had not not been able to arrange with him to meet them. It had been the first day since she arrived she had not heard his deep voice and something pressed inside her chest, a wanting she could not name but that dragged low and hard.
> 
> She said: "I have never seen him," for while Anima had known her sisters to be cruel, she thought that part of their lives was over, now she was wed and no longer casting them into shadow.
> 
> But the whole rest of the day, no matter if they were in the garden -- "Is he a hideous beast?" -- or the atrium -- "Is he an old, old man?" -- or her bedroom -- "Is he a monster with jaws that bite and claws that snatch? -- all they could do was plant, tend, water, and grow seeds of fear in her heart.
> 
> On the third day, she awoke, feeling itchy, like she was wearing sheep's wool under her skin. She couldn't wait to see him again, couldn't wait to see her sisters off that morning. She hadn't felt her husband's presence, hadn't seen him since they'd arrived, and though she knew he couldn't be a monster, she wondered: why not let her see him, touch him, know him?
> 
> She walked her sisters to the gate and hugged them both goodbye. Her younger sister slipped her a candle and a flint-stone, telling her to make sure she got a look at her husband's face: "Before it is too late and he eats you up." 
> 
> The touches of the breezes seemed especially grateful to have the villa back to themselves, away from their judging eyes, and she spent the day wandering the gardens, hoping he would speak to her even though it was daylight. 
> 
> But though she had told her sisters not seeing him meant nothing when she knew how he cared for her, and how she was coming to care for him, with every step in the gardens that day, a part of her was forming a plan. That night, she would take her dagger, the one she'd forged in her own image, the one she'd trusted her life to when she had first arrived and she would bring the candle. That night would be a new moon and she would see her husband.
> 
> Night fell as she walked in the vineyards. The moment the first star shown, she heard his voice, hurried, rushed, like he had been waiting as anxiously as she had:
> 
> "How was your day?" he asked.
> 
> And she told him about her sisters, but didn't tell him how they's pressed and pressed and pressed her about him. She thanked him for making sure they could come, but didn't ask why he hadn't introduced himself. She knew she would find out, one way or the other, before dawn's light lit the world again. They talked long into the night, walking amongst the fragrant roses, the wild and wonderful grape vines tangling around her feet. She felt her body relax as he spoke, telling her yet another story; she felt at ease, at peace with him; safe in a way she had never truly felt safe before.
> 
> And finally, when he bid her goodnight in the complete darkness, she felt a pressure and a softness on her cheek, like a rose petal had pressed there, leaving a bit of its fragrance with it. But there was no wind to blow a petal, and no breeze to push it to her. She felt light, flowing back to the villa under the spare starlight.
> 
> She made to go to bed, changing into her sleeping clothes and laid down until the soft brushes of the breeze left her to do whatever they did in the dark of the night. Then she stood and lit the candle, and tucked her dagger into her dash. She found herself running her fingers over it as she walked, her heart knowing where to find him, in corridors she had never walked, past doors she had never opened. The light of the candle wavered across the walls, making the whole world look like she was underwater. The pressure of it, of what she was doing, pushed at her lungs until she struggled to breathe, became unsteady on her feet; but still she continued on.
> 
> She passed wooden doors and cloth doors, open doors and closed doors; and none of them had her husband behind them.
> 
> Then she turned a corner to a hallway she had never seen before. The air was stale, dry, empty of life and of spirits. She walked, feeling like she was going into a cavern; and she might have been, for she was in the oldest part of the house, dug deep into the low hill.
> 
> At the end of the hallway was a tall metal door, so broad it took-up the entire wall. It warped and twisted under her flickering candlelight, the shapes and stories on it shading and fading. What she could see -- snarling maws, screaming faces, drowning people, a man riding a great lion and a little boy with a bow -- made her heart clench so tight her breathing stopped; some were from her home mosaic and the great one that had welcomed her on her first day, but seeing them in dark iron made her feel chilled. But still she went on. In the suffocating air, she turned the great door's freezing iron handle.
> 
> The candle lit pieces of the room in flickers and in fades: she saw a lone bed, draped in curtains the color of the darkest grapes and the reddest roses, with bedding in the palest grey. Amongst the twisted sheets was a man, arm flung out over a dark haired head, face lost in sleep. His chest was broad, his body shining gold and perfect. Whatever light people had thought she had, growing up or ever, whatever beauty had drawn them in droves and worshipful factions to her father's doorstep, it was nothing, nothing, compared to what she saw here.
> 
> She saw the curve of his chest, the low line of his lashes, and she needed to get closer, to touch him, to see if that smudge on his cheek was a beauty mark or a shadow. He was love and glory, her husband laying out under a canopy of hearts-blood hangings.
> 
> But as Anima leaned closer to lay her hand on his cheek, a single drop of wax fell from her sister's candle, landing scalding on his outstretched arm. 
> 
> Amor woke with a shout and, dark eyes finding hers for a horrified moment, he shuddered, collapsing in on in himself as the entire house roared and crashed, the stones breaking themselves free from their mortar, the walls writhing in the screaming, as darkness claimed them both, their eyes never leaving the other.

Ben paused, eyes on the slowly greying horizon. Rey had folded herself against him, trying to press herself closer as the night grew colder, curling her legs over the solid, too warm shape of him. She was loose in his arms, head on his shoulder as he balanced the book on his knees, his jacket around them both to stave off the chill of the morning wind. She looked up at him, eyes narrowing:

"That can't possibly be the end." She said. It just couldn't. Did Amor come back to Anima, renegotiate the rules with his mother? Did Anima apologize for the breach of trust? Did they ever get to touch?

There was a light in Ben's eyes, spark of joy from seeing her see in the story what he always had.

"It's not -- but I think we should save the rest for the trip back from Nauticus. I have the feeling we're going to need something to look forward to." His voice rumbled over her head and through his chest to her ears, but when she glanced up, he was looking out over the sea, like he was speaking to the blackness between the stars.

Rey followed his gaze, remembering the many kilometers they would have to walk back in time for the General's contact's shuttle to pick them up. She stretched her arms back, moving the kinks out of her shoulders. He brought his head down, pressing his cheek to hers, before tippinghis head back to look up at the nearly-faded stars.

Rey saw the curves of light tracing his face, the dark mass of his hair against the dark rock, and something flipped in her heart, throwing her from sleepy and content to too alive to breathe. She made herself untangle herself from his arms, reaching a hand down for him, and he took it, pulling her forward a little as he stood. She was too, too close to him now, the smell of him and the briny air, the slickly slick feel of the sand between her fingers, the grit of the Harmattan Wind-born sands between his fingers where he gripped hers. It was enough to fall into, to fly up into. She looked up into his dark, drowning dark eyes and said:

"I am glad you are here."

And he sucked in a gasp, eyes flaring, and a sweet pain lanced through her stomach at the sound, at the shape of him, so, so close to her.

"I'll race you to the house," she said, forcing a challenge onto her face when all she wanted to do was collapse into him, collapse and collapse like Anima and Amor's house, until there wasn't a speck of distance between the slick, burning reality of their skin and touch and taste.

"What?" he asked, and she was off, using her power to make the last, long jump, nearly flying, loving the freedom of it all as she raced over the dunes, laughter trailing behind her. He let out a bark of laughter and followed, swift strides bringing him beside her again in seconds. Together, they ran until Rey's lungs beat with her pulse and she could taste blood under her tongue. She kept going, knowing he would catch her if she fell, the safety of him letting her push hard and harder, never letting her heart cool, pounding and pounding between them. In no time, they were back, covered in sand, shared laughter between them as they faced the dawn together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new warnings for this one, but there sure is some plot! Also, there are two scenes that kind of mean the same thing but this is fanfic and I want to be self-indulgent with it a bit. So, yes, I know the two scenes mean the same thing. Just enjoy them or skip around but please share any thoughts or things you particularly enjoyed in the comments! I dearly love your comments.
> 
> This section ties together a lot of threads I first started back in Undertow, so if you need a refresher, re-read the last chapter real quick and come on back.
> 
> Have a lovely week everyone!

When they reached the cottage after their run, they only had an hour before the pilot would arrive with the shuttle for their journey to Nauticus. Neither Ben nor Rey wanted to go back to bed. Instead, they stayed in their living room, Ben reading with his back propped up against the wall, the slow-dawning sky behind him, while Rey went through her lightsaber forms in the open space of their living room. Since they'd gotten back, Rey had watched Ben get more and more tense. First, he was tapping his fingers; then adjusting his seat every few minutes; now he was swearing at his book, harsh and low. Rey was sweating, just having finished a particularly difficult form, when he slammed his hand between the open pages and half-shouted: "Why did he do it?"

The pages were flexing dangerously close to tearing under his assault before he lightened his grip, hand going into his hair and dragging it out of its careful ties. Rey deactivating her weapon and walked over, seeing he was reading the book on Alderaan's culture she'd bought. She knelt down beside him and read over his shoulder:

_The planet of Alderaan had hundreds of different family mourning traditions from a dozen syncretic religious sub-communities, but unfortunately, nearly all of them archived their records in-place as a commitment to the land and the planet of their origin; thus, after the attack by Darth Vader, there are no extant records. Thus the following section will be all too brief._

"Who?" Rey asked, though she was fairly sure she knew.

Ben stood, tossing the book onto the couch and pacing to kitchen and back, hand digging into his hair, gesturing like he was having an argument with himself. He thrust out one arm out, like he was weighing something:

"Ok, so I understand he was trying to intimidate my mother, and it was a big deal to him to get whatever information he needed." He shook his head, and Rey felt echoes of a childhood story told a dozen, a hundred times. But Ben's voice was rising: "But did he need to blast the entire planet? The temples, the tombs, the archives -- the libraries?"

Rey was trying to keep up -- "The people?"

Ben nodded, looking distracted: "My mother always talked about the attack, 'this is a thing that happened,' buthere's the thing -- it didn't need to.  _Alderaan was a peaceful planet._  They had no weapons; they had political power, sure, but enough to disrupt the Empire? No way. Why would he, a military strategist or at least someone who had them near him, try to go after that planet? Why not Mon Calamari, someplace with military targets?"

"Weren't there civilians on Mon Calamari?" Rey asked, voice flat, lightsaber cooling in her hand. And Ben shook his head,

"I'm not saying there weren't, I'm not, but just -- the attack blast killed  _everyone_ , Rey. Babies and kids and scholars and animals --  _everyone_. Everything died. And I've heard the story so many times, because it's the beginning of my Mom's story; how most people tell it anyway. That's the beginning of Han's and Leia's story -- a genocide. And mine too, since it's how she and Han met Ben Kenobi, met Luke. Everything about my name, came from that -- but I don't even know how make the mourning braids my grandmother would have worn, since, you know, the entire kriffing cultural archive is gone!"

He slapped the wall of the cottage and Rey shuddered; she could feel his Force signature simmering, but under control: he was angry, not destructive; but she still didn't like to be near it. He saw her reaction and softened, voice gentler as he said: "All I have are these third-hand memories; this intergenerational pain, these thoughts and fears that come from being destroyed, from not having a home or a planet."

Rey tried to keep her voice even: "Maybe he didn't have a choice -- maybe the dark took him down so deep, he didn't feel people were real anymore." Rey offered, and Ben's energy congealed, soured, and he shook his head.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "He must have had a reason, something I'm missing, something the book is missing, something Leia missed."

Rey turned around, standing up and crossing her arms. She had so many things she wanted to say, questions she had for him -- was this really the first time he'd thought about what Vader's legacy looked like to the people whose flesh it had been charred into? Was he really more concerned with books than people? But she looked at his drawn, frantic face -- and let her arms fall to her sides. She glanced at the horizon, seeing the drop ship coming down and pointed to it, saying: "Why don't you ask Jyndan Ingo, when we get there? He might know something that didn't make it into the history books."

He turned to see the ship coming down, face hardening, shoulders back, bracing for a blow. "I might have to."

She stepped up beside him, arm brushing his, and made a decision. She had been thinking about this since she'd stuffed her lightsaber into her pocket before their walk down the beach; maybe since she'd seen him kneeling in his cell, Captain Jerush's hand knotted in his hair. She held her weapon out to him. He looked at her, eyes stark and wide as she said:

"If we have to fight on Nauticus, you will be armed. There's nothing they can do to take you back. If something happens to me, you will still get out."

He reached back and she pressed it into his hand. His fingers were slow to close around it, the lightsaber he'd tried to take from her months ago, the lightsaber he'd used to defend himself when Luke came for him. But then he grasped it, turning it in his hands and looking it over. He reached out his free hand and pulled her back into a hug, the saber held carefully at his side, and she ducked her cheek against his chest, already feeling the lack of the weapon.

"I won't let them take you," she promised. "I'll do anything to stop them. To keep you free."

He nodded, holding her close as he watched the shuttle continued its descent behind her.

\--

The General's contact didn't deign to exit the drop ship. Rey and Ben climbed the begrudgingly lowered ramp, Rose, Poe, Finn, and BB8 waving them on. They were both wearing their hoods low on their faces, Ben wearing the jacket Rey had gotten for him with the High Galactic words on the front; both trying to give the pilot deniability if he were questioned by the First Order. They entered the small shuttle cabin, the air inside freezing, and an artiodac male was sitting stiffly in the pilot's seat. His duffle bag was securely strapped into the co-pilot's seat and he was not looking at them. Rey greeted him anyway, then glanced at Ben when the man made no move to respond. Then she and Ben stowed their bags and strapped into the boost seats across from each other. Ben's hands were tight on the arm rests and Rey held his eyes as they lifted off of Lehon.

The pilot didn't say a word as they broke atmo or when he docked with his freighter. Once the locking mechanism between the two ships was complete and the air bridge established, he stood. His face was thin and ragged but his flightsuit was impeccably clean.  _Some kind of merchant?_  Rey passed to Ben and he clenched his jaw and nodded. The man propped his hands on his hips, expression souring impossibly further:

"She jags a little to the left. I've given you enough fuel to get anywhere in the next 3 systems, but she only takes premium, so don't you dare put basic in. She doesn't have any berths, but there's a few hammocks tucked into the cabinet in the fresher if you need them." He narrowed his eyes. "Not one damn scratch, do you hear me? Someone else will be picking her up from Lehon in a week or so; don't be there when they land."

Rey nodded and he looked like he didn't believe her. He leaned in, voice mean and tight: "Tell the General we're square. I don't want to see her signal on my wife's communicator ever again."

Rey didn't make any motion, eyes narrowing in the darkness of her hood, and after a long moment, he huffed and headed down the ramp. Rey rose and thumbed the connection between the two ships closed and started the heater. She turned to Ben.

"Charmer, isn't he."

Ben eye's were intense, but he quirked a smile, unbuttoning his jacket and yanking off his hood and shrugging them off. His hair was back again, twin braids holding it away from his face, fading into a simple ponytail. He was wearing the shirt they'd found for him, back on the Falcon; the one she'd ripped. The tear had gone straight through some of the fine embroidery that had traced his broad chest, but now, the entire front had an elaborate design, done in black thread, swirls and hints of shapes, she couldn't quite make-out in the low light of the cabin.

She felt the pilot's freighter engage her engines and pull away, leaving their little ship drifting gently in her wake. Now it was just Ben and her, hanging in the darkness of space.

She glanced out the viewport, the horizon edge of Lehon disappearing as their shuttle continued her gentle spin; Poe and Finn and Rose would have gone back to bed, the food supplies were good, they knew to expect them back in about a day-and-a-half.

She glanced at Ben, who hadn't looked away from her the whole time she'd been thinking. She took a step closer, reaching her hand out to his chest, finger moving to trace the embroidery but stopping, just short of where the rich fabric touched his skin, a centimeter and less of warming air between them.

"When'd you do this?" she asked, and Ben smiled, genuine this time, hands tugging down the edges of the shirt so she could see the full pattern. It was a tree, roots tracing nearly around to his back, branches extending up to the middle of his chest, and his upper chest swirling with stylized wind, all in dark thread. If Rey looked closely, she could see how the bole of the tree and one of the three main branches were thicker than the rest of the shirt, where he'd brought together the seams she'd slashed apart. But the whole thing was beautifully done, intricate and complex. She sighed in appreciation and looked up, seeing something like pride laid over something darker in his eyes. She took a breath and didn't step back. She looked up at him:

"Who taught you to sew? I know it wasn't the General."

Ben chuckled. "No, no it was not." He turned away a little bit, hand smoothing down the silk thread of the shirt, fingers tracing the seam where it had split. His voice got a little distant as he looked down at the shirt.

"It was Lando -- Lando Calrissian." Rey cocked her head, trying to remember where she'd heard that name before.

Ben shook his head: "I'm not surprised you didn't meet him -- he'd left the resistance long before you came. He'd really over even been there for," and he stopped, stepped back, sitting down hard on one of the boost seats, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He clenched his hands, hard, once, and then let them go, let them hang loose between his knees.  "Lando was only ever in the resistance for Han. They'd been -- they'd been together, for a long time, before Han met my mother; probably a few times after. He used to run a place called Cloud City, accidentally-on-purpose gave my Dad to Vader over a debt to the Hutt's -- " at Rey's confused look, he waved his hands.

"It's long and complicated and the General or Chewie will tell it better than I ever will, if you ever need the details." He sighed, leaning back, hands going behind his head. "Calrissian was a smugger, like my Dad, and they'd run together a few times." He smiled, a soft, younger smile she gotten used to seeing when he talked about the good parts of growing up, retelling the stories he'd been told:

"They were always in-and-out of each other's pockets, grabbing each other's clothes whenever they were on the Falcon together. Mom didn't usually care, though she and Calrissian were always hot-and-cold with each other, pretty much hingeing on whether Han seemed to be flirting with one or the other more."

Rey frowned, trying to process all of this, when she remembered: "I saw him name, on some of the inventory logs in the Falcon," she said, a question in her voice. And Ben's smile was big this time, a chuckle nearly escaping his lips.

"Yeah -- Dad won it from him over Sabacc."

Rey smiled; that sounded exactly like the Han she had met. Her face clouded.

"Do you think Calrissian knows, about Han?"

And Ben's face shuttered, eyes falling to the deck, shoulders growing tense: "Poe said he did. He has to. Even when they didn't see each other for years, they always seemed to be keeping tabs on each other. I don't think there's much about my father that Lando Calrissian didn't know."

Rey stepped forward, but stopped herself from putting her hand on his shoulder, just trying to be closer for the moment without pushing.

Her voice had a bit of forced cheer when she asked: "So, how did he end up teaching you to sew?"

Ben looked up at her, hands still in his lap, looking like he'd lost the thread of the conversation. He tried to run his hand through his hair and found the braids, so he pulled off his hair-tie and began unraveling them as he spoke:

"He was around a lot, when I was little, before I was sent off to the Praxeum," and if Rey wasn't kidding herself, she might think he said that word with a little less pain, with a little more stability than he had the night before. Maybe talking about it, letting some of the poison out of his chest and into the sea air, had helped him. She hoped so. He kept going:

"There was this one trip, where Han was delivering some kind of medical supplies to an Outer Rim colony; he took me along, just the three of us in the Falcon. I was, I don't know, 8.They must have expected some kind of trouble because they wouldn't let me off the ship, told me to 'keep her warm and be ready to go.'" His impression of his father was cracked at best, but Rey liked hearing him try. He cocked his head, smiling, and continued:

"Han was right about the trouble, and they came back covered in knife slashes, just," and he gestured a whirlwind of cuts across his chest and arms. "But after they got the bacta patches on -- after I got us all into orbit -- Lando took both of their shirts and came to sit with me in the cockpit, hauling this kit. He had Han's shirt and his, had changed into something intensely purple and sparkly, if I remember right; and he pulls out a needle and thread."

"We were on functional-auto for a few hours, so he handed me a needle and told me to get working. When I said I had no idea what to do, he yelled back at Han -- who was sleeping in their shared bunk -- about not teaching me any useful life skills. Han was so passed out Chewie could have yelled at him and he wouldn't have woken up. Bacta takes people like that sometimes. Then he," and Ben shrugged. "Taught me to sew."

He traced a particularly complex flourish across his upper arm. "I couldn't sleep well, the night I stayed with Finn and Poe and Rose; I found a spare sewing kit in the master closet, so I sat in the living room and did this. That's why I was up when I went to find you sleeping outside. It wasn't something I got to do often, but it's the same as soldering circuit or healing with the Force. You take something broken, take something strong and whole, and you combine parts of them until -- well, it's never going to be the way it was before. It just can't -- not with cloth, not with pottery, not with scars. You can always trace the ripped and broken places if you try to, but you also get something else; something new."

Something shy was coming into his voice, something again like pride, like warmth; this time Rey did reach down, hand on his bowed head, fingers mixing with the waves in his hair. His voice was low, fervent: "Maybe even something better."

"Kitsungi." Rey said, and he smiled, "like in Ingo's book."

Ben nodded, a smile moving across his face, before he looked out the viewport to the slowly turning stars. He followed the motion of them for a moment, then sat back, her hand falling to her side. His voice was tight, cautious, as he asked:

"What would you do, if I set coordinates for someplace not-Nauticus."

She considered, keeping her shoulders loose, trying to give him an honest answer. She found hers quickly, though it wasn't the one she'd expected:

"Well, first I'd disable the tracker, wherever our friend the grumpy merchant put it," she said, and Ben's eyes shot to hers, a look of pure disbelief flooding them.

"And then I'd suggest you think about the Outer Rim, the parts of it the First Order doesn't quite have a grip on yet." She closed her eyes, pulling together the fragments of a plan she'd was always forming, had always been forming, since the day her parents left: "Someplace in the Unknown Regions; probably not Ahch-To since everyone knows where that is now, but someplace like it, a nice dual-star cluster. Someplace with greenery and easy-to-find food, maybe people if they don't care too much about politics."

"You'd come?" He asked, voice low with shock. Rey smiled and it was tired and it was fond:

"I already did, didn't I? I came to the  _Supremacy_ , I came to Nauticus, I took us to Lehon. What makes you think I'd stop there?"

His mouth twisted for a moment, like he was trying to hold in powerful words he didn't know how to say, and then he leaned forward, almost out of his seat, reaching for her and she stepped into him, his arms tight behind her back, as he buried his face in her stomach.

"You're something I've never seen before, Rey," he said to her robe. "I don't know what to do with you."

She laughed a little but then stilled, watching her fingers move over his scalp in smooth lines, over and over. Her voice was soft when she said:

"After I disabled the tracker, which I probably want to do anyway, I'd ask you what came next." He stilled in her arms, hands still tight against her back.

"I'd ask if you wanted to see Poe and Finn and Rose again; because if we ran away, we'd never get to. I'd ask if you wanted to see justice done to the guards, because if you're not there, it probably wouldn't happen." She took a deep breath, letting it out through her nose as she finished her thought, knowing it would open a door leading to a future she couldn't even begin to describe, formless and wavering:

"I'd ask if you wanted to galaxy to be the way it is, with the First Order creeping in power, destroying worlds and peoples and histories, no one safe, no one free; I'd ask if that's what you wanted." And there was a block, something in her heart that was so strong, she could barely get her words out. But she closed her eyes, feeling dampness on her lashes, and said:

"And I'd ask if you actually wanted me, wanted me with you. Because," and she stilled him, as he looked up at her, as she looked at him her vision were a little blurry, his face a little smudged, "Because I bring people trouble. I don't know if I can do this, any of this; I never know what I'm doing, I'm just guessing and hoping for the best, Ben. I don't know if I'd be good for you."

And he was standing, wrapping her in a huge, massive hug against his huge chest, her face pushing against the embroidery, smooth and scratchy and  _him_. He said fiercely in her ear:

"Of course you'd come with me, if you wanted to. Of course you would be good for me and I, oh Maker, Rey, I would try my whole life to be good for you."

And he took a breath. "But to those questions."

He paused and Rey listened to his heart in his chest, again and again,  _alive and here, alive and here, alive and here:_  "Those are good questions. I could live without seeing the guards again, and I would miss seeing Finn and Poe and Rose figure out whatever they're all doing, but about the galaxy -- you're right." He said and in in his tone was something like the first pebble of an avalanche; so slight, portending so much.

"I don't think I'm going to be at the center of that story, I don't think I ever should have been; but I also don't think I could live free or feel safe knowing they had that power." He pulled back, looking her in the eye, hands drawing back to her shoulders: "I think I would have to do something about it, if I were free. But if we could fix that, then after, I think we could go someplace. Someplace in the Core, Rey; someplace we didn't have to hide. Someplace we wouldn't have to fight, not ever again."

And she smiled, feeling a little watery, but also feeling the conviction of him, the reality of him in her arms, feeling the strength it gave her, feeling the power thrumming between them, and said:

"It's a plan."

\--

It took a day of alternating shifts to fly from Lehon to Nauticus. Ben was squeezed into the copilot's seat when the achingly blue planet came into view, so Rey answered the comm line when it buzzed to confirm their identities.

"This is shuttle number AE5912B3, confirming entry."

"Madam Jedi, it is good to hear your voice again." Rey startled at Sergeant Bardo's low voice. She glanced at Ben, but his face was frozen, staring out the window at the swiftly nearing shoreline.

"Sergeant Bardo, I trust our flight plan was in order?"

There was a chuckle. "Yes, and your landing site 50 km from here will be entirely empty of Chriss, as specified. Your rendezvous is already there; he got in yesterday. Will you -- or anyone else on your shuttle -- be needing anything else?"

His low voice was polite, but curious. Ben remained silent.

Rey replied: "I'm fine, thank you." And cut the comm line.

Ben sat back, tense. "He was new," he said, eyes distant. "He hadn't done anything, hadn't been there for anything." He shut his eyes and shuddered and Rey reached out a hand. They were getting close to their planned landing site, and she would need to focus on getting them down in one piece; but she had a moment. He let her fingers slip between his, then let her go. She felt tension coil in her belly as she guided the craft over the crashing blue of the waves but she reminded herself that Ben was here, beside her on the co-pilot seat, her lightsaber in his belt; he was not down in the prison below, being hurt and starving for their shared dreams. He was physically whole, but as Rey glanced at his too-wide eyes, the way he hadn't taken his hand off the Jedi blade, she knew this trip was pushing it for him, pushing him.

Jyndan Ingo had chosen the meeting site, sent them the coordinates in-transit. Perhaps he thought being away from the prison would be easier on Ben; Rey thought he was an idiot if he thought anyplace on this horrorshow of a planet would be far enough for her or for Ben. But Jyndan had said there was a reason they needed to meet here, had said there was something they needed here.

Rey glanced at Ben and saw his mouth was pinched, one more straight line in the mixed-angles of his face. He didn't say anything, just closed his eyes and breathed-in through his nose, out through his mouth. She wanted to tell him that she would turn them right around, right now, go somewhere else, anywhere else, anyplace to get that bracing-for-pain look off of his face. She gripped the controller a little tighter and eased them onto a high cliff.

The sea was high, even higher than it had been when they had escaped in the Falcon -- the tips of the waves kissed the bark of the gnarled trees whose roots kept the cliffs overlooking the water from tumbling down into its blue, blue depths; but the wind was low, barely ruffling the evergreen treetops. She felt the landing-gear crunch into position and then settled the ship on the rocky outcropping.

Ben was frozen in his seat, hands braced on the armrests of the too-small co-pilot's seat. Rey bit her lips and stood, moving between the chairs to on her way to the gangplank -- but then he was reaching out, catching her around the waist, pulling her into his lap. She went willingly, legs over the armrest, arm behind his head, tight against his broad arm as it curled around her belly.

Their faces were so close, it was have been harder not to lean into him, to smell the soft clean smell of him, the smell of the sea they'd left behind on Lehon, the smell of the food Rose had cooked them the night before; so she did, leaning in, pressing her cold nose to his neck as his grip grew tighter, shifting his hips back so she had more space to sit, to ease into the empty places in him.

She took a breath and it was all that smell, that unique smell of the place they'd been but also the smell of him, him alive, him free, him here. She pressed her hand to his heart, to the place she'd been getting to know these weeks, and felt the pressure of it against her palm, felt the rhythm of it; a little fast, skin a little hot through his embroidered shirt, but still  _alive and here, alive and here_.

He was watching her, seeing her moving her hand on his chest and seemed to take some strength from that, and from the contact. Then he took a deep breath and let it out.

"This is going to suck," he rumbled. She choked on a laugh, smiling against his neck before nodding.

"Probably."

He nodded. "Alright."

And then he stood, princess carrying her towards the door as she squeaked in irritation.

"No, absolutely not." He quirked his head at her, eyes wide and innocent.

"What's the matter? You carried me off the planet, seems reasonable I should carry you onto it."

She glared, eyes deeply narrowed: "Absolutely. Not."

He huffed a laugh and gently let her legs swing down. She went onto tiptoes and kissed his cheek, justifying it as something she might do for Finn but knowing that wasn't true, and said:

"For luck," before tossing him his cloak and pulling hers on before tangling her hand in his and pulling him down to the gangplank, Ben stumbling a bit after her.

The feeling of lightness dissipated into the stiff afternoon sea breeze of the prison planet. They looked around, hearing the sound of some avian species flitting and crying out to each other in the treetops about these sudden intruders; the slap of the sea against the cliffs behind them.

Rey's heart slammed in her chest as she heard the crunch of steps coming from out of the forest as something heavy worked its way through the chaparral towards them.

Rey stepped in front of Ben, her hand outstretched, ready to use whatever offensive Force power came to mind first if it was anything other than Jyndan Ingo or a particularly kind-looking megafauna. Ben was close behind her, a huge, solid presence. Out of the corner of her eye, Rey saw the saber, out and un-activated, in the low grip she'd last seen him use in Snoke's throne room.

A man broke through the trees, wearing loose grey robes, hair cut cropped close to his head in an unmistakably military style. Jyndan Ingo had eyes only for Ben, barely glancing at Rey. He stopped at double Ben's reach away from them. She let her hand drift down, before taking a step forward as he finally met her eyes and reached out to grip her arm. His hand was uncalloused but his grip was firm on her wrist.

"Mr Ingo, this is Ben." Rey said as she released him. Ben stepped up to her side, extending his hand. Jyndan's eyes widened just a touch as he looked Ben over, looking long and hard at the High Galactic swirling down his lapel before snorting and grasping Ben's forearm.

"I'm pleased to meet you," he said, his voice raspier than Rey remembered, eyes still full of the same intensity from the prison. He took a step back, and gestured behind him. "What we came here for is in a cave a few kilometers into the forest, but we can meet in your shuttle or mine first if you prefer."

Rey could feel Ben's glance, but she kept quiet; like everything else today, where they met be his call. She saw him roll the lightsaber with his wrist before nodding once, short and hard:

"We can talk on our way to the cave."

Jyndan nodded and unbuckled his bag. "I brought some provisions," he said, offering the fruit inside to both Ben and Rey: "Since I figured you probably didn't eat on the way here." There was a tricky twinkle in his eye when he said: "It's just some fruit and cheese, no broccoli beef with extra hot sauce or noodle soup with peppers and yam." And Ben startled, glancing down at the calligraphy on his shirt before nudging Rey's as she tried to stifle a snort.  _Told you that was the translation,_ he passed through and she nodded, face relaxing into a quick smile.

She felt a surge of feeling come from Ben -- warmth at her presence, apprehension at the coming conversation, low-level terror at being back on Nauticus. She passed back the sense of being safe in her AT-AT, steel beams and sand berms between her and the world, the swirl of a sand storm outside her home, warmth and food and -- and he added a thought to it, the feeling of her in his lap, warm and safe and heavy and there.

Rey colored a little at the memory and brushed her hand against his before lengthening her stride to catch-up with Jyndan.

Once they were past the tree-line, Rey found herself on an overgrown path about as wide as she could stretch her arms. It ran gently through the ground-cover, only the spiked leaves crunching and rustling beneath their feet and the sharp spice of long-undisturbed mast filling their senses. After a few moments, Jyndan spoke: "If I were you, I would be thinking of nothing but why we were meeting on a planet that has brought you -- you both," he said, nodding to Rey, "so much pain." He shook his head. "I'm not a cruel man, or one of toy with a recently freed man's sense of safety."

Ben's voice was sharp: "I am no more a free man than you are."

Jyndan stopped beneath a great gnarl-branched tree and looked Ben hard in the eye:  "True. But here I am, out in the world, only a tracker in my neck ensuring I return to my cell. I take freedom very seriously, Mr Solo and I never volunteer on cases I do not believe I can win. I asked you to meet me here, because I believe part of your defense -- whether you work with me or not -- should come from the ysalamiri."

Rey met Ben's confused glance --  _The ysalamiri -- didn't he mention something in his letter?_  she shot over to him, but then Jyndan was speaking again:

"The ysalamiri that you freed, Rey, are still here; in fact," and he pointed down the overgrown road they were following, "They have taken-up residence in the cave, really an old mine from the previous inhabitants of this planet from before the Chriss conquest. As I told you, the ysalamiri use the Force in unique ways. To numb all other species' use of it and connection to it, yes; but also to communicate, to store a communal record of all of their senses, their memories, so that even when one is killed as several were by the guards during your captivity when these usually gentle creatures tried to intervene on your behalf, their memories continued on. My connection to them built over decades of living together in close quarters, allows me to connect their memories to mine and then mine to others."

He paused as the effect could sink in, and then pressed a little further. "I can share their memories, their records of what they saw and heard of what happened to you, with the jury during your trial, so they can see for themselves, every single blow, cut, and humiliation from your time on Nauticus and thus be convinced to hold your abusers accountable."

Ben froze, breath stilling in his chest, as memories from Nauticus crashed over him, triggered by Jydan's casual words. Rey could feel he'd been keeping such a tight reign on himself, been keeping the memories at bay -- and that he had just lost the fight to them. He stumbled back, hand tight on the lightsaber, and shook his head. As he passed her, she felt a brush of revulsion and skin-crawling horror that Jyndan's cool, dispassionate eyes might already have seen those memories, seen what the guards had done to him when he could not fight back and win. He threw a look to Rey and stormed ahead, jagged emotions flowing from him, his shields ripped down and shredded, control shot. She looked at Jydan, gaze hard as she kept an eye on Ben's hunched and retreating back:

"There was a kinder way to say that."

He frowned and then nodded slowly. "Perhaps." He said. "But I was not trained by the Empire to be a kind man. And getting used to talking about what happened now will make his trial more bearable, if he chooses to have me represent him."

Rey shook her head, still feeling Ben's pain seeping through their bond: "I'm going to check on him," she said and jogged to catch up.

She found Ben just off the path a kilometer further on, hidden from view but not their connection by a massive tree. Jyndan was meandering across the path far, far behind them, giving them some space by walking as slowly as he could. She couldn't feel theysalamiri yet, but knew they had at least another kilometer to go. Ben was crouched in the dirt and the leaves, hand on his chest, gasping at the base of a tree, fingers gnarledaround a torn-off piece of bark, gasping the humid, sea-tinged air. She pressed her mind against his shields, expecting to find them smooth and unending -- and instead fell straight through, straight into his mind, body collapsing over his, covering him even as she fell.

They were in a hallway, underground, near-pitch black, the walls obsidian like the glimpse of Mustafar Rey had found Ben in those weeks ago; this what what it was like, inside his mind, all the time. But the walls were different here from what she'd seen before, rough, jagged somehow -- then Rey's attention was torn away, catching sight of a something down the corridor.

There was a light. A candle, wavering and winding, held by someone pacing back and forth in an alcove at the end of the hallway. As her eyes adjusted, Rey saw the walls of the corridor were oddly shaped, bulging in places, diagonally crossed, with gaping -- Rey gasped, stepping back to find Ben beside her, his hand gripping hers.

The walls were full of bones, skulls and femurs and empty, gaping eye-sockets. He squeezed her hand, pulling her away from them and towards the figure with the candle, a young woman. She was facing a wall in a broad, empty alcove, maybe as large as the Falcon's common room, dark hair swaying behind her, clothing like something out of a historical holovid, high, fine leather boots, loose grey cloth and looping belts, swaying as she moved back and forth, eyes never leaving the wall in front of her.

There was something about her, something luminous. She didn't hear them approaching, as her light got bigger and brighter the closer they got to he and she was a shadow in front of them, outlined on all sides by reflected light. As they reached the door of the alcove, Rey realized it wasn't the just the candle haloing the woman in front of them -- there was something on the wall, something with sharp edges reflecting and bouncing and building the light from that single candle until it was like a starscape before her.

Ben stilled at her side, resting his shoulder against one of the pillars framing the entrance to the alcove and she stepped around him to see, now she close enough to find what he and the woman with the candle were looking at: every surface of thealcove, was covered in a mosaic, rushing like spark-flecked water across the gently sloping floor, crashing up the sharply curved walls, showing beasts and men and half-men, monsters and heroes and villains, a massive cascade of shapes and colors. The edges of the tiles caught the candlelight like starlight in the grey darkness of twilight, shimmering and making the space glow, silhouetting the woman in front of them.

Ben's neck was craned up as he traced a particular story up the wall, the light shining on the cracked edges of the individual pieces that made up the scene. Ben was just a little behind her, so when Rey stepped back to get a better look, her entire back pressed against the oven-heat of his front. The breath went out of him in a gasp and the woman in front of them didn't react. Slowly, slow as breathing, Ben wrapped his arms around Rey's waist.

She leaned back into him, the warmth and comfort of him in this strange place, the solidity of him when she'd last seen him bent over and gasping, all anchoring her in a way she wished she could ask for in the real world; she wished she could accept. His warmth at her back, his arms around her, she let her eyes wander, follow the stories in the mosaic, trying to make sense of them as she tried to match his breathing with hers.

After a minute, Ben leaned his head down, his loose hair tickling her ear. His voice was a whisper and she shivered at he feeling of his lips touching the delicate skin of her ear, the quivering, hopeful feeling of him so, so close, safe and whole.

"Do you know how mosaics were made on Alderaan?" he asked, and she shook her head slightly.

"Mosaics came from broken things. In a family's house, a pot or a glass should shatter, but rather than throwing away the pieces, they would dump them in an old pot. The whole town would wait, collecting broken things in every house. For years, sometimes it would take years, Rey, for things to get broken enough that they had enough pieces to make something new. Then they would take it to a special person, someone who could look at those pots and bags and handfuls of shattered glass and clay and say: 'I know a story that can come from this.'"

"And they would give the person some part of the temple, in the catacombs," and he loosed his arm from around her long enough to gesture around them, before wrapping her up tight again, "They would give her someplace near where the ancestral dead lie, and they would give her mortar, the stuff that holds the broken things together, and then -- leave her to it. And she would sit, surrounded by broken things, shattered pieces, jagged edges, and find the starlight in them, remake them into something else, something good."

He looked up. "I've only ever seen these in my imagination, reading stories, in dreams, in stories and holovids and pictures; never with my own two eyes. There are none left in the waking world, that I know of; but I have this place. I had forgotten about it, for a long time." He dipped his head down, pressing his mouth to her shoulder. "You make me remember things I'd loved and forgotten, places I used to feel safe. I used to come here, sometimes, growing up, to stand with Anima under the temple and among the dead, to stand in the light shed by broken things. This is the place that would call me, over and over again; this is the place that would bring me back when Snoke's voice got to be too much. I stopped coming here, after Lehon; I lost it for so, so long. But I remembered it, last night, when I was reading the story. Not a place of shining light or perfect peace, but a dark place made beautiful in its brokenness, the edges that might have cut instead reflecting a light that is made brighter by its contact with broken things."

Rey looked at the woman holding the candle, how she was searching, looking for something in the mosaic.

"This was the beginning of her story," Rey said, remembering. "You never told me how it ended." He nodded.

"She has to wait -- wait for years. Has to be sent away, has to be scared, unsure if she will ever find a home. But she keeps wandering, keeps trying to find him. She despairs and is praying and finally, _finally_ , she hears his voice, telling her: 'Where there is life, there is hope.' She keeps going, keeps waiting. She has to be pursued and then escape," and he squeezed her tight, just for a moment, before letting go, letting her turn so his words fell into the quiet space between their bodies: "In the end, she finds home." He said and pressed his forehead to hers. Rey had to close her eyes, he was so, so close: "She has to wait; but she can wait. And after the trial, after she's found Amor, she'll be free. She'll finally, finally, be free."

Rey nodded, hands going up to cup the back of his neck, feeling the warm, solid shape of him, here in their shared dream. For a breath, for a moment, they were together. Then she said:

"We have to go," her voice regretful.

He nodded.

And they were back in the forest, her body shielding his as he let out a hard gasp, his body shaking against hers, and for a moment, just a moment, she wrapped her arms around him, pulled him to her, bracketing his hips with her legs, and holding on as he gasped out of the last of what had thrown him down here, each breath bringing him back, back to her.

When he could breathe again, he stood and pulled her up with him. Then, hand-in-hand, they made their way back to the path. Jyndan was sitting on a fallen log, legs crossed, eating one of the pieces of fruit he'd brought. He glanced down at their joined hands and stood, dusting his hands off.

"Ready to go?" And Rey nodded and started to move forward, but Ben stopped her, turning to look at Jyndan:

"Why are we here? Why do I need to meet with the ysalamiri?"

And Jyndan paused and looked at them both before answering: "The ysalamiri refuse to share their memories of your time on Nauticus, with me, or with anyone else, unless you gave your full permission." He shrugged, hands coming up. "They have strong feelings about privacy and seem to have become quite protective of you. They insisted on seeing you were free -- or, as free as could be expected -- before moving forward."

And the sense of relief, of gratitude, pouring from Ben could have floated Rey back to sea. Ben continued: "And if I do not? I don't relish the idea of being made a spectacle of."

Jyndan nodded slowly. "I will try to find another defense for you, of course, if you are interested in working with me. But Mr Solo -- "

"Ben." Ben corrected, and Jyndan's eyes widened a touch.

"Ben, then. Ben, I don't have to tell you this, but the trial will be very difficult. There is someone who I believe is a former rebellion general who has been pushing, hard, for a jury to be gathered and you convicted in absentia. When the leadership refused, he began to work to have your trial separated from that of your abusers. He has been scouring the galaxy for survivors of Hosnia, of Tuanul --"

"There were no survivors at Tuanul." Ben said, his voice cold and mechanical and Rey startled, recognizing the name of the anti-tech settlement a half a continent away from Niima Outpost on Jakku. She hadn't known he'd been there. Jyndan corrected him:

"There is one member of the resistance who was there, who witnessed the entire massacre; but he has been resistant to sharing his testimony and difficult to find these past months." And Ben froze, glancing at Rey, before rushing forward. She made a note to herself to follow-up on that.

"To what end?" Ben asked and Jyndan's cool demeanor slipped for just a moment.

"To have you killed, Ben. This man, this former general, believes you should be held accountable and that he knows that that should look like." He shook his head, coolness returning to him slowly. "It's more power than any one person should have, which is why he hasn't won yet. But there is so much anger, Ben, in the resistance; towards you, towards the First Order, towards this whole mess the galaxy finds herself in. If I was your lawyer, I would keep this trial from being about ideas, and keep it to specifics: what did you do with your own two hands, under whose control or orders were you working, what happened to you as a result. How young did Snoke start in on you? What happened when you fought back -- because I am certain you did, if what the ysalamiri believe of you is true."

He set his pack down, hands going to a notebook inside. "I've outlined what we would need for a trial -- what witnesses, what evidence, what prep times. I would ask for the trial to begin in 2 weeks, not 6, to give this general less time to prepare; I would have the jury see every piece of what happened to you, in continuous progression, 10 hours a day for weeks; maybe cut-out when you were sleeping or resting, but not all of it. It will be hard to find jurors who can remain hard towards you after watching what you went through, and once they have found your guards guilty, it will be harder still for them to believe you deserve more that what you've already endured."

He shook his head, staking a step towards them. "Look, I cannot guarantee you success. I can guarantee I will work as hard for you as for any other client. I only ask 3 things."

Ben took a breath, moving his hand to brush against the back of Rey's before saying:

"What are they?"

Jyndan raised up a finger. "First, all of the ysalamiri still on Nauticus will be relocated to the planet of their choice and provided ample starting provisions to begin a new life after the trial." Rey nodded.

"We will talk to the General, but I do not believe that will be a problem."

"Second," he said, eyes hard on them before facing Ben fully. "You never lie to me. If you killed someone in cold blood, tell me you did it. The resistance does not require advocates to turn their clients in for crimes admitted to under attorney-client privilege, and this is the kind of trial that could take years to prepare for. 6 weeks versus 2 will not matter that much, but if you lie to me, it will waste time that could cost you your life."

Ben gritted his teeth and nodded, hand tightening around Rey's as she squeezed his back.

"Third," Jyndan said, "From the moment you step onto the resistance base, you both must stay within the power of the ysalamiri." Before Rey could object, the memory of the nausea of being cut-off from the Force rolling through her, he continued: "This serves two purposes. First: it reassures the jurors who are concerned that two powerful Force users manipulating their minds. Second: it will allow us to bring them to the base in the first place, so there is no debate about their presence and we can reveal their ability to project memory at the place and time of our choosing." He nodded to himself, and then gave them a slight smile: "And I do not believe the experience will be as difficult for you as it would be for most Force users; after all, it was the ysalamiri who connected you through dreams for the two months of your captivity."

And Rey's eyebrows shot so far up she feared they might never come down as Ben sputtered and startled beside her.

"What -- how could you know about that?" Ben asked, voice rough, and Jyndan rolled his eyes.

"The ysalamiri have been my constant companions for 30 years. They see themselves as servants of the Force and the species most closely sympathetic to its goals. The were proud of what they accomplished, figuring out a way to bridge two minds the Force so clearly wished to be connected and that pride spread throughout the species." He smiled. "They were bragging for _weeks_  about how they managed to keep you connected, gave you what you needed to find each other. They were very proud."

Rey was trying to orient herself around this new knowledge, when Ben spoke:

"But they never -- they never asked for anything. They fought, and on the day the guards -- on one particularly awful day, several of them died, fighting for me -- how could they know that Rey would free them, that we could come back and get them from this Force-blasted rock?" His voice was shaking, but the words still came out.

Jyndan looked at him, considering, and said: "They can't tell me what they were thinking because -- well, you'll see, but they don't communicate in words exactly. More like, images and feelings. But if I had to make an educated guess -- and my understanding of them in very well-informed -- I would venture to say that they figured anyone the Force put as much stock in as it has in you two would probably do right by them in the end."

Ben took a step back, eyes considering, before nodding. "I agree to your three conditions. I believe we can work together. I can't speak for Rey about staying within the ysalamiri's area of influence --"

"I will," she said. "It won't be pleasant, but if that is what it takes to save Ben's life, then that's what I'll do."

Jyndan looked them both over for a long moment, before a slow smile moved across his thin lips.

"Alright then." And he strode off, back down the path.

Rey followed after him, and after a moment, Ben caught up with her, arm going over her shoulders for a brief moment before slipping down her hand to pull it to him, As they walked, the sound of the waves receded and the dim green light of the forest rose around them. There were big, coiling ferns, thick moss on some of the trees and bare grey bark on others. Underfoot was a with mast of spiked leaves about the size of a loth cat's ears and just as curled-in. Ben smacked a trailing branch aside and Rey pressed her mind against his; but rather than frustration and fear, she only felt determination. Something about being here and being ok, something about knowing the next steps in this plan, made her feel better about pushing him to work with Ingo, about making sure he came here. He felt her looking over his emotions and quirked a smile at her, eyes lighter than they had been in hours.

"I'd say 'race you to the cave,'" he said, "but I don't want to be mid-stride when the ysalamiri's disruption gets us." Rey nodded, smiling back at him.

They felt the suppression field before they saw the cave. To Rey, it felt like stepping into freezing water and keeping going as her body got number and number. The cave had a big, square entrance with raw timber columns holding it open. Out stepped one of the big purple-skinned lizards, luminous eyes bright and watchful. Rey noticed at this distance how big its talons were, hooked and digging deep into the leafy soil. This close, she felt completely cut-off from the Force, eyes tight with the effort to keep going at the same pace she'd set out at. But Ben was still going, still walking forward, so Rey kept up.

When they were only a few meters away, Ben slowed and stopped. Another of the massive creatures came out and Rey squeezed his hand one last time and before letting go, stepping to the side as Ben approached the great lizards. He knelt, hand out to them as they approached and scented the air around him with their long scarlet tongues.

"Hello again," Ben said. "I never introduced myself. I'm Ben Solo." He paused, glancing back at Rey, then stilled as more of the great creatures approached him, eyes wide in the low green light of the forest as they lay around him in a crescent. He kept going:

"You saw me at one of the worst times in my life -- and you never stopped fighting. Rey," and he waved to her before returning his attention to the creatures in front of him, "Rey only saw you at the end, when you were still fighting to protect me. But I remember each of you. I remember when you," and he pointed to a thin one with a long yellow scar down its side, "You bit one of the guards so badly I didn't see him for days, right on the hand he'd used to hold me down. And you," and he pointed to another, a huge-shouldered one that looked older than the others, if Rey was judging their differences in sizes correctly, "You were closest to my cage at the beginning, and screamed so loudly the guards knocked you out, moved you to the back -- but you never stopped yelling, never stopped trying to wake me up when they were coming, to object to what they were doing when they came into my cell."

Ben hung his head and Rey could see the ripple of tension move across his back as he said: "Before you, it had been years since anyone had fought for me; not fought on my orders; not fought for the ideals they thought I stood for; but fought for  _me,_ to protect  _me_." He reached out a hand, shaking, and the smallest one moved its head into it, yellow eyes lazing closed. He rested it there for a moment before continuing:

"Thank you. Thank you for being there and never stopping; thank you for connecting me to Rey, who was able to heal me and save me in so many, many ways -- I can never describe how grateful I was for those dreams, for the hope you gave me through them."

He pulled his hand back, straightening his spine as he said: "I have no interest in reliving what happened to me. But Jyndan Ingo, who I believe you know," and there was a low rumble from the dozen lizards, like a purr that sounded to Rey's ears like approval, "Jyndan tells me that, if I tell you it is alright, you will share what you saw with the jury in my trial." The big lizard who had first came out of the cave jerked its head in an approximation of a nod. Ben took a deep breath and said:

"I give my permission. And I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are relocated to the planet of your choosing after the trial, and that you are cared for and treated well in the meantime. Will that be acceptable?"

The big lizard nodded again and Ben moved to stand. A lizard stepped closer to him and his hand went to his head, his back bowing as if he was in pain. Rey started forward, but it ended just as quickly as it had begun, Ben giving a half-exhausted laugh, replying to something Rey couldn't hear:

"Yes, I believe they will have lettuce on the resistance base."

The lead lizard gave him a big toothy grin, then turned sinuously around and led the others back into the cave.

Rey looked a question at Ben, and he shook his head as he stepped towards her: "When they communicate, it's pretty intense, but it was like Jyndan said -- feelings and pictures. This was a feeling of extreme hunger and a picture of a big head of lettuce." Rey nodded and reached out her hand, which Ben gratefully took.

Jyndan looked between them again and then clapped his hands.

"That's it! I'll take them to the resistance base on my ship, it's all ready to go, though I didn't think to get lettuce. I'll begin the jury selection and will see you in two weeks." He lowered his chin and said in the low voice: "We have a lot of work to do, so expect to see a message from me when you arrive back to where you've been staying with some homework. In the meantime -- have a good journey."

"That's it?" Ben asked, "We came all the way for that?" Even as exhausted as he sounded, he still managed to inject some irritation.

And Jyndan smiled, holding out his hand. "I don't believe in wasting my clients' time, but this was the only way, and everything else can be done at a distance. I look forward to representing you, Ben."

And Ben shook his head in disbelief, but gripped the other man's wrist. Jyndan turned to Rey, offering the same grip, which she returned firmly.

"See you in two weeks."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really fun chapter, and I wanted to get it right; also, Linear Algebra is no freaking jokes, ladies, gentlemen, and gentlethem. No kriffing joke at all. I'm looking forward to the end of June when I'll have my brain back from the legions of matrices and determinants that currently control its pathways.
> 
> The hot spring mechanics here are borrowed from the Vichy hot springs in Ukiah; if you're even in Northern California and have $35 for a half-day pass *do it*. They have the best bubbles.
> 
> Also -- comments are life! Thank you so much to everyone who has been leaving them, they really help me move to the next chapter faster. Thank you for reading and following this journey with me!

Within minutes of boarding the shuttle and getting free from Nauticus's gravity well, Ben Solo was out cold in the hammock in the back, having said something about just needing a nap to reset. He was still out when Rey made the jump to hyperspace. She smiled and grabbed a wake-up drink from her bag; she felt warm inside knowing Ben felt safe enough around her to sleep; she could use the time to think, about what Jyndan had said about the ysalamiri sharing their memories of what had happened to Ben those two months he spent in the Chriss prison.

She glanced back at him, too-large frame overwhelming the hammock, leg trailing over the edge, face mashed into the pillow they'd found stashed in the 'fresher's closet, checked her mental shields and sighed. Massive as he was, she bet if she climbed in there with him, wrapped her thighs around his waist and kissed him awake, they could make it work. Hell, if that was what it took, she was pretty sure she could levitate them both using her connection to the Force. Rey gripped the armrests of the captain's chair and kept herself in her seat; that was not something she was going to do. Ben needed her to keep her shit together, and while she couldn't control her fluttering thoughts, she could kriffing well keep them to herself. After they day they'd had, Ben deserved to sleep, not be bothered with her suddenly-insistent libido. An insistent, treacherous part of her reminded her that _he_ wasn't the one bothered by it; that _he_ was going along with her rules and helping her maintain her boundaries but he'd been pretty clear he thought they would be better off sharing a bed and all that came with it.

She took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. It was like her skin was telling her it needed to be sure itself that he was ok, to feel the heat and smooth-roughness of his cheek, to press against the warm skin of his neck and  _feel_ for herself the ever-present _beat beat beat_ of his troubled heart. Her belly wanted to touch his, her hips ached to press against his. She could feel it, the tension in her arms from going weeks without holding him in the way she wanted to, going to be _alone_ every kriffing night while Poe and Finn and Rose pilled carefree together onto their massive bed like a litter of happy loth-kittens.

Rey tipped back her head, groaning quietly at herself. She _had_ been right to set those boundaries when they'd gotten him off Nauticus; he'd been hurt and hurting and needed a friend and ally and stability and safety with no strings attached. And it _would_ have felt like strings, like he had to be a certain way with her, if they'd added sex and that kind of intimacy into the mix.

She _was_ his friend: she liked hearing about his day and sharing hers; liked seeing him do new things. And that had given Finn and Rose and Poe evidence that he could be someone's friend and given them space to stand up for him, to let him in, to tease and bother and get _involved_ in his life, in a way they just wouldn't have if they'd been exclusive. Sometimes people figure if someone has a significant other, it means they don't need other people looking out for them, when it means they _especially_ need people to look out for them.

Even if in the weeks they'd had together in Lehon, she'd never stopped thinking about putting her mouth at the place where his broad shoulder met his neck, never stopping thinking about wanting the taste of him in her mouth and _drowning_ in it -- well, she thought she'd done a good job of keeping it to herself, of maintaining the boundaries to what they agreed: pre-teen stuff only. She touched him more than she touched Finn or Poe or Rose, but he didn't have anyone else to touch him -- assuaging skin-hunger, needing affection and approval, those were all things he needed and he _wanted_ from her and she -- she wasn't sure if she could stop giving them to him, unless he told her he didn't want that from her anymore. The more she learned about him, the more she wanted to remind me -- daily, hourly, _by the kriffing minute if she could_ \-- that here and now, he was _here_ and  _safe_  and _free_  and _loved_. And if she could make that a part of being his friend, until he was truly free, that's what she would do.

But platonic affection isn't what she wanted, and she heard the call for _more_  from the dark side of the line, the selfish, hurting,  _wanting_ side of the line that divided good and evil in her heart, a line only currently being maintained by her calloused-hands' grip on the armrests.

She glanced back at Ben, slipping her mind along his and finding him deep in a dreamless sleep, breathing easy. It would be hours before he got up. She snagged _Tales as Old as Time_ and it opened to the story of Anima and Amor -- but she flipped further back, wanting to give Ben the chance to tell her how that story ended.

\--

Ben slept all the way to Lehon. As the great blue-and-green planet came into view, Rey stood and stretched before going over to where he was curled on his side in the hammock, long legs barely tucked into the bounds of the slick fabric.

Sleeping, he looked so much younger than he had the first time they had met; when he'd taken off the mask in the interrogation room, she had been prepared to see a rough face, a haggard scar, a malformed person -- because who else would wear a mask? But when he'd pulled it forward, his hair falling into his eyes, from the terror and fury in her mind had come the thought:  _that's a boy._ He'd looked like a child, to her, face unlined by desert winds, mind untorn by the kind of deprivations that had made-up her daily life for so long, though he was ripped-up in other ways. Slipping along the corridors of his mind to pull out painful truths to defend herself had been automatic, defensive; cruel, yes, but in a cruel situation she did what she had to.

He wasn't unscarred now either, she thought as she grazed her fingers down over the gash she'd given him in the forest. He hummed and catted into her palm, the warmth of his cheek shocking after so many hours touching only stiff computer consoles and the armrests of the captain's seat. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, and oh, yes, this was much better. There was a sleepy wanting that made her stomach flip, until he came entirely online and turned to get out of the hammock:

"My shift?" He asked, and Rey shook her head, gesturing out the port window.

"Nope -- we're here."

He frowned hard, taking a step towards the cockpit -- "Rey, you should have woken me up; I didn't mean to leave you out here on your own."

She shook her head and replied: "You needed sleep."

He rested his hand on her back, so big his fingertips spanned the space between her wingbones. "I'll make it up to you theesa, I'm sorry."

She turned into him, wrapping her arms around him and sighing into his shirt. He smelled especially like him, not having changed for 2 days, and she just wanted to wrap herself up in him and never let go. His hand pressed more tightly against her back and she melted, just a little, at the closeness, and the warmth.

Then there was a deep humm at the console and she stepped back with a grumble, Ben following her to sit in the co-pilot's seat. It was from Jyndan Ingo:

 

 

 

> _I have arrived at the manor and the ysalamiri are very much enjoying roaming the grounds. I have begun the jury selection process, though will wait to make final determinations until hearing from you. The situation here is -- complex. I will tell you more on a more secure line._
> 
> _The first thing I need from you when you arrive is a list of character witnesses -- people who can tell stories of how you have changed, can speak to the good you have done, the people you have helped; to counterbalance those who have arrived to testify against you. Who found these witnesses, who paid for their travel here, is still unclear to me. Let me know as soon as you can; 10 names minimum._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Jydan Ingo_

Ben's face was unreadable but his hand when it found hers gripped tight. He turned to her and there was something raw in his eyes and she squeezed his hand back, just as hard.

They made the approach together, slow and steady, circling down as the island got bigger and bigger in their console. Their silver shuttle skimmed across the waves and Rey could see cascading mountains beneath the surface. She glanced at Ben, smiling at how the turquoise water fluttered beneath their thrusters. His eyes were intense when he said:

"Let's make these last weeks count, ok?"

"Sure, Ben," she said.

He nodded.

They arrived mid-morning and were immediately dragged into cooking with Poe, though Ben was still banned from chopping anything. They made a sweet curry and flat breads, fruits and veggies Rose and Finn had found in the forest far from where they'd seen the rancor. Rose cheerfully bossed everyone around while Ben hunched over the sink, manfully trying to get the baked-on bits of curry out of the pot as BB-8 projected an archival video of how to use a stone to clean pottery onto the wall next to him, for a reason perhaps known only to itself. If she knew her friends, four of his ten character witnesses were standing in this kitchen right now; five, if she counted the droid who had been the cause of all of their lives coming together in the first place.

Over lunch, the others told them about their days in the sun, swimming out to the edge of the breakers and the sunburn Finn had nearly gotten while gently day-drinking before Poe had gleefully doused him with sunscreen. Rey and Ben gave them updates -- about the ysalamiri, about Jyndan Ingo, about moving up the trial.

The grimness Rey had felt settling into her bones on Nauticus was impossible to maintain in this beach oasis, and by the end of the meal, she was laughing and bumping her shoulder against Ben's as he smiled big and crooked his back at her.

Rey went back to their cottage for the afternoon to catch a long nap, while Ben headed out towards the hot springs with a determined look in his eye, along with Finn and Poe.

\--

A tapping noise pulled Rey from her nap and she rolled over to look out her bedroom window, a little loopy with interrupted sleep; the wake-up drinks always took a toll eventually. The noise repeated and her eyes finally focused enough to see Ben's face nearly smushed up against the glass. It was after dark, Ben's face lit up by the big moon rising over the back of the mountains.

"Nap time's over; come see." He said, voice warm and teasing through the pane. Rey snorted and he narrowed his eyes mock-seriously and beckoned her with one crooked finger, taking a step back. She smiled and leaned forward to open the window and clamber over the sill, screen still resting in the sand. She stumbled against him in the process and he caught her, holding onto her shoulders until she found her feet.

He looked down at her with such a look of fondness, she considered losing her balance just to fall on him again. But she pulled it together and stood straight and asked:

"What's up?"

"You'll see." He slid his fingers around her elbow, tugging her gently. She went.

He led her towards the lagoon and the hot springs; she hadn't gone back since the day of the rancor attack. There was an enormous bonfire fire on the other side of the gouge she'd carved in the sand; as they got closer, she could hear Poe and Rose laughing but couldn't see them. Then she saw a silhouette rise-up and then jump into something with a splash -- a distinctly male silhouette, unencumbered by any clothing.

She stopped stock still and looked across the hot springs: they were still arrayed like 6 rays of a sun, with a massive central tub in the middle, water flowing through stone pipes through them and emptying into the lagoon. Ben turned to look a question at her.

She asked: "You got the hot spring working?" He gave her a funny look.

"It's a hot springs Rey, it's not like it turns off." And she smacked his elbow lightly as he smiled down at her.

"You know what I mean."

He nodded, resuming his walk, a little slower matching her pace this time. "Yes, I cleared out the flotsam and jetsam, redug the trenches, resealed the pipes, and rebuilt the cabana." He ducked his head. "I finished it before we left, but I left it all running for a few days to flush out the last of the gunk." His smile flickered in the firelight. "I tested it this afternoon before letting the others know; the champagne bubbles are something else."

She had a thought, brain still catching up: "I don't have swimming things on," and there was a flash where she could see Ben weighing a suggestive answer, a smirk that reminded her of Han flickering across his face, before he settled and said:

"You can go in in your regular robes -- there's not a lot of swimming to be done; the tubs are pretty narrow. It's more of a lounging thing. Though," and there was another laughing cry before a massive splash nearly quenched the bonfire, "I think Finn may be testing the limits of the central pool. And be warned, both he and Rose have decided that this is a clothing optional hot spring; Maker help us all."

Rey started sniggering, trying to keep her giggles to herself as Finn's silhouette ran in front of the fire to jump into the pool again and she heard Poe yell:

"Put it away Finn! Put it _away_! You're scaring the wildlife!"

And Rey was bending double laughing, hands on her knees, unable to help herself, the last of her sleep-deprived loopiness overwhelming her, the idea of a rancor stumbling back and fleeing in terror from her naked friend too much to think about. She shared the image and Ben gingerly patted her safely between her shoulders until she calmed down.

His voice was low when he said: "I can tell them to suit-up if you're not comfortable --"

And Rey realized that for all she'd been watching Ben, sometime in these past two weeks, he'd been watching her too, seeing what she could handle and what she couldn't; figuring out what it took to take care of her. She took a moment, tried to think about what he was asking. A month ago, the thought of being near any naked man would have held more terror than interest if she didn't know the man, if she wasn't armed and protected. But it had been weeks since she'd been attacked in any serious way; it had been months since she'd had to fight for her life.

And more than that, over and over again, with Finn's hugs and Rose's shoulder pats, with Poe's smiles and his cooking -- and with Ben: Ben being there, being _with_ her, never pushing, always there, always comforting, always _safe_ , now when she looked, she found the part of her that recoiled, that was always full of rage towards men and the pain their bodies could bring was more like a simmer. Not a low boil, not overflowing her edges; when she thought about seeing Finn and Rose cavorting, she mostly felt like giggling at her friends making a spectacle of themselves.

She shook her head and said truthfully: "I wouldn't dream of it -- it'll all go into my carefully-curated blackmail file, alongside the babysitting stories," She finished sweetly to Ben's scowl.

"Rey!" Rose cried happily, sitting up from the deep tub, shoulders about down at the level of the sand: "Get in! The bubbles, Rey; _the bubbles._ "

Rey moved to the nearest tub and dipped her hand in and yanked it out -- the bubbles felt like tiny sparks, almost cold in comparison with the body-heat of the water. She flopped on the ground and began taking off her boots as Ben kept going to tend to the fire, dodging a ill-aimed splash from Finn. He crouched in front of the bonfire, feeding it thick, dry logs he must have collected from the forest over the past weeks. His expression was alternately lit and darkened by the flickering flames, like in the hut on Ahch-To, like in their cave under the island.

She was barefoot and strategizing about which tub to slip into when Poe called her name quietly. She wandered over to him and he waved something shiny to her. She realized was an ornate silver tray laid out on a colorful quilt between his and Rose's tubs, full of snacks and nicely-plated ration packs.

"In case you're hungry; you missed dinner."

Then he pulled a determined expression and sighed to himself before reaching to the other side of his tub and pulling back a half-full, crinkly bag, saying with a sheepish voice:

"And here's the last of the candy."

And Rey cried out in triumph, grabbing for it as he said:

"Rose said she would tattle on me if I didn't fess up," he shot a glance over to the other woman, who was busily floating with her ears below the water, though Rey could detect a certain smugness around the lips. Poe continued: "On the Falcon, I didn't know you liked them so much; and once I knew, then I didn't know if I'd have enough."

He sighed: "But if it's our last two weeks, so we might as well share."  
  
Rey pulled her manners together and gently took the half-empty bag of candy, saying graciously: "Thank you for sharing," before she tore into it, scattering the silver twists of chocolate across the quilt. She unwrapped 3 and shoved them in her mouth, chewing the perfect caramel with impossible delight.

Sugar needs satisfied, she finally noticed Poe's hangdog expression. Feeling more mercy than she'd felt in her entire time on Nauticus, she slowly collected the remaining candy and sorted it into four piles. She nudged Poe's closer to him, and he took one, his smile wide. She gathered another up and brought it over to where Finn was lying out on the beach, cooling off with a thick towel over his waist. He took his share with a smile and said in a low voice:

"Ben did a good job, the tubs are _amazing_."

"You should tell him that," Rey said, just as quietly, and Finn lolled his head back-and-forth in a firm _no_.

"His ego doesn't need any help," and he winked over her head; when she glanced around, she saw Ben carefully not looking at them, but she caught a small smile creeping around the edges of his mouth.

Rey handed out the rest of the candy and headed back over to a tub across from where Poe was lounging. She moved her boots and socks far enough away she couldn't get them wet, sunk her feet into the steaming tub, and slid the rest of the way in, stomach clenching as the hot, hot water came up and cover her head. Then she lay back and surfaced, floating a little, letting one leg float up and then another. She twitched a little as the bubbles in the water formed little reverse-clouds at the sway of her back, between her legs, under the cupped palms of her hands. She could hear the murmur of voices -- Ben's low one getting nearer, Rose's high laugh, Poe's loud-voiced mumble, Finn's guffaw; she felt wrapped-up in it, in all of them. But she also felt alone, safe and protected and buoyed-up by the joy around her.

She felt like she could fly, floating here in the quiet, blood-warm water, the tickle of bubbles around her. It was like being wrapped-up in Ben's arms; it was like eating a handful of someone else's candy.There was something to knowing nearly everyone she cared about was within a 1 km radius and as safe as they could be, a feeling she gripped tight and wanted to never let go.

Tonight was a fulfillment of something she'd wanted for Ben -- that Finn could tease him, that Ben could take it without snapping or shattering. That they could all laugh and cook and talk together. This night was like a version of what she'd shown Ben in their first hours on the Falcon, in the med bay, promised him, when they'd first gotten him out, what it meant to him to be his own person in the world, and not just a piece of someone else's master plan, hers or Snoke's.

Rey was so grateful, she could crow. But she didn't -- instead, she floated. Her body found a buoyant balance, drifting as the water flowed through the tube behind her head and out the one at the same level by her feet.

Ben had explained how the water flow of the hotsprings worked to her; to everyone in fact, at length over dinner last week; it had been hard to picture, no matter how many diagrams he drew on the napkins. But she got it now.

Each tub had two drains and one spout, each a fist-sized holes leading to tubes that emptied into or emptied the tub, depending on elevation and if they were plugged or not. The two drains were towards her feet, one in the bottom and one near the rim, towards the central tub; the spout was at her head, near the rim. There was a big stone plug that keep the tub dry if it was put in the spout, fill it if it was put in the bottom drain, or keep the water low if it was put in the top drain.

Ben had set all of them up, but she saw now how she could could plug the drain at the bottom of the tub, and the tub would fill, fill, fill, until it was full of hot, bubbly water, and then all of the overflow would drain out the top drain.

Engineer-mind satisfied, Rey refocused on the feeling of the bubbles; she was getting covered in them as they rose, rose, rose, from the water around her and clung-on, perfect, white dots, transparent really, except for when the stars hit them; but the cooler air in them clung to her, so when she brushed her hand down her arm under water, freeing the bubbles that had collected there, her skin was somehow cooler than it had been before.

There had been a handbook that Ben had found in one of the drawers in her room, rummaging around for a pen one day, that had describe this spring water as medicinal. Rey didn't know about that; she'd pick a bacta patch over this any day if she were in trouble. But the tiny touches of those millions and billions of bubbles, the light way her skin felt and looked under the rising moon -- it didn't have to be medicine to be special.

She felt a shadow flow over her and she sat up, night air cool and wonderful on her wet skin, looking over just in time to see Ben slip into the tub beside hers. She sat up and looked over at him. He'd taken off his shirt, but kept his pants on. He dunked himself entirely under, and then sat up again, pulling his hair back away from his face with eyes tightly shut.

Just for the moment between when he emerged and when he could open his eyes, the full force of what she wanted from him crashed over her: she clenched her jaw and thighs together at the sensation, the unmet feeling of fullness and touch-yearning -- and then looked up at the stars and breathed, knowing he would look at her any moment. She felt the brush of his mind against hers and returned it with carefully modulated warmth, with friendship -- and with hope, a patient, waiting kind of hope.

She ducked her head down under the water again, letting the bubbles collect on her lips, the insides of her ears -- and there. Right there. She could hear them -- _ting, ting, ting_ as the bubbles burst underwater with her.

 _We wouldn't have needed a fire on Ahch-To if we would have had one of these,_ she passed to Ben without thinking about it and she felt his warmth flow back towards her, along with a funny image of her batting away bubbles as she tried to find him on the bottom of the ocean, bubbles caught in the clouding mane of his hair.

 _But then I wouldn't have gotten to sleep beside you by firelight_ , he passed through, with his memory from that night, the night after she'd healed the words carved into his back, when she'd held him and felt this, this thing start blooming in her chest. It wasn't the first time he'd shown her how she looked her his eyes, but laying here, only the stone of the tub between them, it ticked something down in her belly, something flipping, and suddenly every bubble felt like a caress, every current of water felt like his lips and she -- she let it. Just for a moment. She felt the hot water move across her skin in waves, the cool-and-warm shapes the bubbles made as they roved across her moonlit skin. She had her shields up around that sensation as tightly as she could but she didn't catch it all and a moment later she felt him sit up, drawing his legs to his chest, face pink from more than just the heat of the water.

She sat-up too and reached out a tentative hand and he did too, muscles moving across his back as he lay his fingers in the center of her palm. The feeling of his skin on hers, the softness of his fingertips and the roughness of her callouses and the weight of his hand on hers and the feeling of touching even this small piece of him; she didn't sigh aloud, to keep Poe and Rose's attention from them for a few seconds longer; but only barely.

He glanced at her and asked a question she didn't know the words for, and she said _yes_ and he shared what it felt like, to him, to have her hand in his -- it felt like comfort, like safety, like a key to a lock they both knew how to pick, but they were waiting for the right time to unlock. It felt like safety and it felt like friendship -- and then, in case she was getting an all-too platonic idea of him, he let a wave, just one, but what a wave, a wave of the other feelings -- molten pressure inside him, the tightening of his skin, the blood running alongside his bones, the heart-thumping rush of seeing her like this, being like this with her, the rope between them tugging them this tiny centimeter closer and closer.

Rey leaned her forehead against her arm, struggling to breathe in the warmth, through the connection, cherishing every hard gasp against her lungs. She could feel him, big lungs taking in that much more air, feeling it through her lungs -- and she wondered for a moment, if she could breathe for him; if he could breathe for her.

His thumb curled around under the back of her hand, letting her feel the reality of him, bringing her back to this moment.

 _Don't want to get overheated_ he said, and there, there it was, a smirk, a kindness wrapped-up in just a smidge of wanting. She chuckled under her breath and levered herself out of the tub, stubbornly refusing to let go of his hand. She lay herself out on the sand between their tubs, him looking up at her from knee height, her trying to look at his face and no where else. She moved their joined hands to her stomach, where the hot water was rapidly cooling and his fingers remained tight around hers.

\--

Their remaining days fell into a pattern. Ben would spend a few hours every morning on the comms with Jaydan, going over his responses to his last missive, usually alone, usually finishing looking exhausted; Rey tried to give him space, playing holochess with Rose or reading or practicing her lightsaber forms to get back into fighting shape. The others were distracting and supportive by turns, and Rey enjoyed seeing her friends figure out how to work each other into their lives -- though when she walked-in on Finn _and_ Rose _and_ Poe in the hot springs, she saw sides of them she would have preferred not to before she beat a hasty retreat.

\--

It was only an hour since Ben had come back from his meeting with Jyndan, face a little drawn and drained-looking as always. He was watching Rey's holochess rematch against Rose, giving not-so-helpful advice in between bites of a red fruit when Poe poked his head in and said: "The General is on the line and wants to speak with you."

Rey began drying her hands -- "I'll be right there," but Poe was shaking his head.

"She asked for Ben." And the man stiffened, turning slowly to look at Poe, his expression unreadable. As far as Rey knew, the last time he had heard his mother's vice had been when Rey'd requested a shuttle to get them back to Nauticus; the General hadn't asked to speak to Ben, hadn't even asked for the kind of updates they had given during the rescue mission, though Rey knew Poe had been including updates on Ben in his check-ins because she'd contributed to the summaries.

"Alright." He said tightly, and went.

Rey lasted about 2 minutes before sabotaging her side to Rose's delight and heading back to their cottage, where the communications array was still set-up. The room was well-insulated and so she couldn't hear the conversation, but she gently nudged against Ben's mind and found it -- whirling. Not chaotic, but swirling with something bright, like a fresh wind. She heard something that sounded suspiciously like his laugh, then a moment of silence and the door opened. She tried to pretend to be interested in first book she'd grabbed, Rose's recipe book with its lush photographs of far-off cuisines; but she knew she was pretty far from convincing.

Ben walked straight over to her and collapsed on the couch, nearly squishing her feet in the process; she plunked them in his lap in retaliation and he settled his hands over her ankles, smiling at her as he said:

"The General sends her regards." And then he tipped his head back onto the high back of the couch, a slow smile moving across his face.

Rey cocked her head: "It went ok? Something about the trial?" And Ben shook his head.

"It was ok, but it wasn't about the trial. My mother has always had different versions of herself for different occasions, and today's call was from my Overly Involved Mom not the Leader of the Resistance; it's been years since I've heard from Overly Involved Mom, since at least before I was sent to Yavin IV; it's not a version I've missed, though much preferable to the Queen of Alderaanian Etiquette or Famous Freedom Fighter Too Busy To Chat iterations. No trial talk, except to let me know that we can use the comms lines for longer and for video now, given, as she said, 'The First Order is extremely distracted at the moment.'"

Rey looked at him curiously. She had yanked herself out of the loop on anything having to do with the Resistance's battles against Supreme Leader Hux as she'd dove deeper and deeper into her mission to get Ben back, figuring the General would tell her if she needed her to do otherwise. Her connection with the Force was a powerful symbol to the resistance, and while she could handle herself in combat with years of experience defending herself, she wasn't interested in negotiating battle plans with the remaining generals. She trusted the General would tell her when and where she was needed -- and if she didn't hear anything, she wasn't going to go looking for any more battles right now.

But Rey was also low-key dying of curiosity to know what could possibly mean they could open up their comms lines to _video_ calls. The benefit of text was that it could be mirrored, delivered asynchronously, and hand-encrypted. Voice calls could be anonymized, hidden amongst the natural frequencies of a galaxy that -- with its supernovas and battles and heavenly bodies colliding -- was fundamentally _loud_. But there wasn't tech in the galaxy that Rey had heard of that could disguise a video call for being anything other than what it was. That meant the General had either stopped caring about her location being identified -- unlikely -- or she was somewhere that had a good reason to be calling a secluded retreat on Lehon used by generations of Senators.

Ben's fingers had started moving on her ankles; not with anything like intent, but like he couldn't help himself, fingertips working their way under her pants leg and wandering through her hair, brushing it this way and that until the tingles worked their way from the thin skin of her anklebone all the way to her core.

She made a small sound and slouched lower on the couch so he could reach more of her leg. He quirked a smile and began to work this thumb into the tense muscles of her calf, smoothing and gliding across her skin until she felt like a puddle of person, all soft bones and drowsy eyes.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" She murmured and he paused. She realized her eyes had drifted shut, and she opened them now, worried she would see him pale faced, remembering something terrible or heartbreaking; maybe a lover he'd lost had taught him or someone he'd killed. But instead there was a puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know -- I don't think it's something I learned. But just, it's how bodies work -- the muscles get tense, you rub them until they loosen up." He shrugged. "I've studied martial arts my whole life;I know what it takes to care for a body in motion."

She nodded, eyes drifting closed again as her hands fell loose on her book. A minute later, she felt the book slip out from under her fingertips and Ben move her feet off his lap.

"But I have to get going. I'm cooking dinner." And before she react to that, he was jogging over to Rose's cottage. She tucked her feet under her and reached for the history of Alderaan, starting-in on a brief chapter on the culture of Delaya, Alderaan's sister planet.

\--

Ben was being mysterious. He'd informed everyone they couldn't come into Rose's cottage for the rest of the afternoon. Poe had shrugged, pulling himself up off the couch and meandering with Rose towards the hot springs, Rey and Finn following, though Rey brought her lightsaber to get in a few forms before dinner. When BB-8 attempted to trundle after them, Ben called after the droid, saying: "I have a favor to ask you."

The droid looked between Rey and Ben with a concerned _whirring_ , before rolling back to him. The last Rey saw was Ben taking a knee beside the BB-8, head bent in consultation.

She did her forms first, to get them out of the way, and then she dozed, letting the warm sun bake her gently under her loose wrap.

Too soon, she felt a hand on her shoulder; Finn, waking her up.

"You've got to come and see this," he said, voice urgent.

She stood, letting the sleep in her muscles sluice off as she stretched her arms way up high, looking-up to see her fingers twisting in the auburn and amber sky. She flopped herself over and pressed up, letting the long stretch of it carry down her back, to the backs of her thighs and the thick muscles on her calves. It had been a while since she'd let her body relax that long in the daytime.

"Come _on_ ," Finn said, and Rey smiled, hurrying to catch-up with him as he headed back towards Rose's cottage.

When Rey walked in, it was to the smell of aired-out smoke, the sizzle of meat in a pan, and the sound of a too, too familiar voice --

"The General's here?" She hissed to Finn. "How? When? _What?_ "

He shook his head. "Come and see."

Rey did, trying to snag any tangles out of her hair and straighten her sandy tunic as much as possible during the dark walk down the corridor to the kitchen.

Poe and Rose were watching from the couch with wide eyes as BB-8 rolled-around, projecting a tiny hologram of the General onto whatever surface was nearest -- the refrigerator; the teal tile island; Ben's flour-covered back; all while she cried-out instructions and goaded her slightly haggard-looking son into cooking what smelled like fried chicken and waffles.

"You need to keep an eye on the chicken Ben -- are you watching the chicken?"

His eyes flared but he turned to where the 'chicken' was simmering on the stove-top, lifting it with a spatula as Rey stared from the doorway, wide-eyed.

"And are the mashed potatoes ready?"

He muttered something like, "As ready as they were when you asked 2 minutes ago," but just nodded and said loudly: "Yes."

"And is the dining-table set?" Ben's eyes flashed in panic and Rey dashed to where BB-8's frontal camera could see her.

"I've got it, ma'am," she said, as she started ransacking the kitchen, looking for where Ben had hidden the cutlery.

"Good, Rey, thank you. Ben's been learning to cook." Frantic as Ben's Force-signature was as he tried to keep turning the chicken while pulling waffle after waffle out of the iron without burning himself, muttering small curses the entire way, she couldn't stop herself from smiling at the pride in his mother's voice.

"It smells like it," Rey answered, finally finding the deep blue napkins and bundling them against her chest to take to the table. BB-8 rolled over to point out to the General the garbage can, where a particularly black-and-lumpy specimen had been hidden. _BB-8 is a bit of a_ traitor she passed along to Ben as he snorted over the stove. She heard the General sigh:

"Ah, yes; the first sacrificial waffle. It's an old Alderaan tradition -- you always burn the first portion, so you won't burn the last of it." Even in the tiny hologram, there was a twinkle in the General's eye.

"At least, that's what Breha always told me. My adoptive mother never did like to cook, and the first portion often turned into the second and then into a quick take-out order."

She grinned, her hologram flickering on the counter next to Ben's frantically-moving elbow. Rey couldn't see much of her surroundings, and this kind of projection must be deeply encrypted and scattered to allow this; but she could tell from the older woman's face that it was worth it to her. The General called out over her shoulder:

"The chicken should be done, but be sure to check the middle for freshness,"

"It's not really chicken," Ben said in a stage-whisper over her tiny hologrammed head. "It's an unspoilable veggie simulacrum."

The General grumbled something about giving away family secrets, but when Rey peaked into the pan, it was clear that no one who'd ever heard a chicken vaguely described would think what lay gently simmering there was a chicken. But it still smelled amazing, warm and juicy, just the right amount of spices. Rey reached around the General, BB-8's camera following her arm movement, and tucked her hand into Ben's elbow.

"It smells amazing." She said reassuringly, feeling a bright smile light-up her eyes.

He blushed a little and ducked as the General said: "Of course it does! We have great family recipes. Ben, have you told her about our recipes?"

 _Need any help?_ Rey passed through the bond, and Ben glanced at her slyly before replying:

 _She has a meeting in 5 minutes; we only have to last until then_.

And Rey choked back a laugh, glancing down at the hologram before looking guiltily away and moving to set the table.

True to Ben's prediction, a few minutes later the General said goodbye, hollaring to the rest of the group to "Come where I can see you -- oh, Poe, Finn, you had better be taking care of the best mechanic in the resistance!"

The General kicked everyone out of the kitchen, though Rey hovered in the hallway, peaking around the corner, perhaps not-knowing or perhaps not-caring that the rest could all hear her from the attaching dining room. Her voice was a little softer as she said:

"Now, make sure to put the chicken on the rice so the juices soak in -- and Ben?"

"I won't forget the frozen berries, you've already --"

"No, that's not -- " Rey could hear her take a breath, trying to get composed. "I can't believe it's only been a few weeks, Ben; I'd seen the videos and you look -- you look great, Ben. Really great. Rey and the others have been good for you. I'm glad you have them."

He was quiet, curling his lips under his teeth before nodding his head silently. The General continued, voice quiet but firm:

"After the trial, I'll show you the other recipes I remember. Poe told me you've been reading-up on Alderaan's history, and I don't think I told you enough about that part of where we're from; we talk too much about blood and inheritance, but the people who choose us, who raise us when no one else will, those are our real family. And sometimes, the ones whose blood we share aren't the best for us, aren't the best parents to children. But," and her voice got a little unsteady here, even as Ben took a half-step forward, "But where there is life, there is hope; right, Ben? Sometimes people are better with adults, than with little ones."

"While there's life there's hope," Ben said slowly, something in his voice, and the General waited for a moment before saying:

"I'll see you in twelve days. Stay safe, theesa."

"You too, Mom." He said and the transmission cut-off. He knelt down in front of BB-8, patting it lightly on the head, saying:

"Thanks for that, little guy; now, go charge, that must have taken it out of you."

BB-8 chirruped and trundled off.

The dinner was as good as promised, frozen berries for dessert bringing it to a bright close. They left the others to do clean-up as they groaned and moaned about their over-full stomachs, and headed back to their cottage. Ben had legal briefs to Jyndan to read, and said he wanted Rey's opinion on them.

\--

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Rey said as Ben drooped sleepily against her shoulder on the couch in their cottage, briefs piled-up in his lap.

"Don't need to," he said, eyes completely closed, hands still on his papers, face smushed down on her shoulder.

"Oh, really?" she asked and he hummed in agreement, tipping himself over into her lap. She sucked a low breath their her teeth -- there was, being real, a lot of Ben Solo to fill up her lap. She'd been balancing the paperwork on her knee, sitting cross-legged, and his whole head was taking up her thigh. He rubbed his face against her tights where her tunic had ridden up to show them, one long arm going around her legs.

He nodded to himself, satisfied, and let his body go lax. The reading had been grim; war crimes trials had a long history in the Republic, with a long history of leaders of opposing armies being publicly executed. She hoped this was just background information, something to set the context. The General wouldn't allow Ben to be killed after all this; she couldn't. Rey brushed her mind across Ben's to see if he was teasing, but nope: he was now entirely and completely asleep. She chanced a moment, safely behind her shields, to look his sleeping self over.

She had noticed before, but the General was right: he was filling out again, losing the sharp edges hunger had carved into his body. His cheekbones were still as prominent as they were always going to be, but she couldn't see his ribs through his soft shirt, hadn't seen his hip-bones when he'd stood to get out of the tub last night. She cataloged him for herself -- long pale feet ducked up behind him and against the arm of the couch, long legs folding to fit, a strong waist, covered-but-only-barely by his shirt, rising to the broadest shoulders she'd ever seen on a human. The skin of his neck was still pale, beauty marks scattered across it, and there -- she caught the flutter of his pulse and she was in an instant so achingly grateful that she got this moment, this chance, this quiet, with him; whatever else came, whatever hell they had to swim through next, he'd had this time, this quiet, this peace; and she'd had it with him.

She steeled herself and looked down at his face. The scar she'd laid into him was close, and for a bare instant, she wanted to trace it with her fingertips -- no, with her lips; wanted to kiss her way down, feel the texture of it for herself, feel what she'd done and how he'd healed from it; marked but not broken. Never broken, this impossible, wild, difficult, sweet, impermanent, faithful, dark, reliable man. She liked the jumble of angles of his features, and wished she could see his eyes, the soft way he looked at her from under his eyelashes, the quiet way he said her name.

She wondered if she said his name in a special way too, if she said things to him that made no sense to anyone else, but that meant the world to him, the way he did for her. He'd told her she looked like silver-tongued Anima before the wax fell, and at the time, she'd had no idea what he was talking about; but now she did; or, she thought she did. Did she look like she was going to betray him? Or like someone he needed to save? She thought he'd meant that she looked like someone so beautiful a goddess would kill her for the competition and a god would give up his home in the sky to spend the night in a tree with her; that she looked like a partner. Rey didn't want to go fishing for compliments, but she felt like she could do more to understand what it was Ben wanted from her now. Now he had friends, now he had stability -- at least a little, at least until the trial.

And after? He could probably get work building hot springs at this point, if he wanted to, or teaching some rich brats basic sword fighting. But he'd said he wanted to be back in the fight, not at the center, but maybe in the penumbra; maybe close enough he would be working for the Resistance.

She leaned her head back onto the back of the couch. That was a thought: Ben Solo in Resistance browns and beiges; Ben Solo in an X-wing, not a TIE-fighter; Ben Solo taking orders from -- from who? From the General? From Poe? From _her_? Could she send Ben into battle where she wouldn't be there to stand between him and danger? Unconsciously, her hands raised up, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, keeping the silky strands from tangling through careful practice. Could she make this man watch her walk away from him, not let him come and try to keep her safe? Could she let others decide where he'd go, where he'd sleep, what he'd do to fight?

Rey found herself wishing she wouldn't have to. She found herself dreading the conversation that she could smell coming down the pipeline, the conversation about the best way to _use_ Ben's knowledge, months out of date though it was. She could see the worst alternatives spinning out in front of her -- they would ask him to go back; they would ask him to kill; they would ask him to trade himself for someone else; they would send him on a suicide mission. She wanted to hunch her body over his, to keep him from going out to them, keep him from ever leaving this carefully perfect place, this heaven removed from the slipstream of reality. Instead, she woke him up and gently got him into bed, then took herself to sleep, alone, in her own bed, counting the days until after the trial.

\--

The third time Ben sidled into the kitchen to see if she was done doing her dishes from breakfast -- a remix of the leftovers from the General's recipe the night before -- she asked if he needed something. The sun was just coming up behind the snow-dappled mountains, the sky pinking and grey, the Harmattan wind blowing an easy stream of long-fingers clouds across the horizon and bringing the smells of winter down from the peaks.

"We're going to be late," he said.

"For what?" She asked. And he shook his head, motioning for her to come outside.

Just outside the door he stopped and turned so quickly she bumped into him, catching herself with a hand against his chest. His voice was rich chocolate in her ears as he murmured: "Trust me, theesa?"

She breathed: "Yes," and he smiled, this one smaller, softer, but somehow more real than the shiny grin he'd had on a moment before. She shivered a little, bare arms catching a bit of cold wind from the surrounding mountains.

"Alright -- close your eyes." Rey narrowed her eyes at him, but then took a deep breath and as her shoulders eased down, shut her eyes. She felt Ben's arms go around her and something move under her feet and she was about to huff at him when there was a _jerk_ and her belly dropped and the wind was whipping gritty around them like they'd opened the windshield of the Falcon on the descent down to Lehon. She laughed in surprise and began to open her eyes, but heard Ben's voice, a little strained, a little breathless, but still there, still right by her ear:

"Wait, just wait," and so she settled, tipping her forehead against his chest and fisting her hands in his grey shirt. It was one of his shorter ones, ending just at the top of his pants, _probably Finn's originally_ , she thought. Then something moved under her feet and Ben stepped back, standing behind her and turning her to face something. She opened her eyes and --

"We _flew_?" She yelled, staring down at the beach with their tiny cottages, the endless sea and the sun warm on her neck. Ben gestured with his warms wide and his smile crooked and even wider, correcting:

 _"I_ flew us here, theesa." And then he pointed to another peak, probably a half-day's hike away, far away and beautiful, touchable and _here_ and survivable and bold. " _You're_ going to fly us there."

" _No,"_ Rey said in disbelief and a sudden, raging curiosity. "I don't know how." She said slowly.

And Ben shook his head, smile quirking across his face.

"I'll teach you."

And Rey grinned so wide her cheeks hurt, a lightness blossoming in her chest and filling her up like one of Poe's fizzy concoctions, overwhelming and light and impossible to shake.

She stepped forward, slipping her hand into his and saying: "Show me."

And he did.

\--

They touched down, hours later, the smell of the Harmattan winds thick in their hair, laughter at the last flight running through their chests -- Rey had taken them down and over treetops, dancing with a batch of high-flying Minka-birds as Ben stood steady on a the highest branch that held the parents' nest, hand braced against the thick, straight trunk of the towering pine, watching over their younglings as their parents played.

Rey had buzzed him, fingers whipping through the air to tag his back, teasing until the birds grew tired and returned home, giving Ben a chance to give chase, flitting up and zooming around her as she laughed and chased him right back. They'd landed in a clearing where the pine needles were gilded in frost and half-collapsed against each other at the sudden return of gravity. He laughed into her wind-dragged hair:

"You're not going to forget the first person who taught you to fly," he said, laughing breathlessly as they got used to standing on the shifting dirt of the mountainside again. Rey jerked around, eyes torn from the slow-drifting clouds born by the Harmattan winds --

"What did you say?"

Ben's eyes startled and he shook his head, face shuttering down. "It's nothing -- I'll race you to the next peak -- "

Rey stopped him, fingertips light on his bare arm as she stared, mind racing, trying to understand what he'd said. She could tell he wanted to pull his arm away, but couldn't bear to lose the contact once she'd reached out, even for the barest moment. She listened to the wind working its way through the thin-leafed pines, bringing the scent of winter from the snow-dipped tops of the mountains, mixing with the shifting sandy loam beneath their feet, it was like she stood in the midst of all seasons -- and none.

Ben looked out over the horizon, mind stretching to fill the distance, eyes hungry for it, a view without bars. And it came to her, hard and sharp as mountain ice:

"You don't think you'll survive the trial," she said, voice soft, feeling distant from her own body. "Is that what this week has been about -- the hot springs, the cooking, the cuddling -- flying?"

She tugged him closer to her, and _oh_ , he went willingly, tucking himself into her arms like she was the bigger one, the one who could shield him, even as he said, bleak certainty in his voice as he pressed his forehead against her bare shoulder:

"They're not going to let me go and become some princeling of the Resistance, theesa. I killed people, like my mother said that first day. They're going to kill me with a blaster to the back of the neck and I'll be lucky if I get a marked grave." He paused, something catching in his throat, something like yearning pushing through the forced-flat tone he was using:

"I don't have ten character witnesses; I have four, and three only barely. I've been too broken, too long. But I just want _one_ person in this galaxy to have good memories of me. Just one. Just you." He pulled back, fingertips gripping her shoulders then sliding up, up along the pulse points of her neck before slipping up to cradle her face; his palms were warm on her cheeks.

"Just you, theesa. You sit in the dark and take broken things, see the light coming from shattered pieces; you carry the light with you, even when it casts shadows. Theesa, you _shine_."

And he pressed his mouth to hers, just firmly enough she couldn't think it was an accident, just enough to light up every molecule she contained, to flood her body with the molten reality that Ben was _here_ and _safe_ and _free_ and _with her_ and that they might not have a future to save these touches, this painful sweetness for -- and she surged up into him, knocking him back a step as he stumbled to catch his footing, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her to flush against his body, bare arms on arms, mouths touching and gasping into each other's, hips twisting to get the right touch, the right _friction_ as she cursed and muttered into his mouth:

"Don't you give up, Ben Solo. Don't you fucking _dare_. You're going to be free and you're going to get to build that mosaic _yourself_. I won't take broken pieces -- I want you whole in whatever shape you choose to make yourself into and loved and _free_."

She dove back in, those spare seconds too long to be parted from his soft lips now she had him, making a little sound of longing as he pressed his tongue against her lips and she opened to him, the feelings and touches of him, the senses of him feeling this with her like jumping to hyperspace for the first time, like water after days in the desert -- like the love of a man who'd put himself back together from shattered pieces over and over again enough to know he needed molten gold to rebuild himself stronger in the broken places.

"Promise me," Rey said fiercely, " _Promise me_ you'll fight."

And Ben pressed against her harder, hands slipping across the hot skin of her back as she shivered and molded herself against him. She shoved his shirt up, running her hands greedily over the skin of his back, pattern-seeking across the scars she'd healed and the scars he hadn't let her heal, imagining a whole world of nights like this, nights where she could kiss the spaces between those scars, taste the shape of every piece of him -- and she shoved that vision into his mind, uncaring that it was more than the boundaries she'd set, uncaring that she didn't know exactly what she wanted to do in that vision, just knowing she needed a light for them to walk towards, something bright and imperfect and _them_.

This vision was of their first time, how she'd imagined it, a dozen, a hundred times since the hut on Ahch-To. Every detail had changed and shifted in her mind except the feeling of warmth, of closeness, of _him_. She would lean into him, let her tongue sweep across his, let herself touch and be touched, maybe he could come up on his knees, press her back into the side of the couch, kneeling up between her spread legs, his hands insistent and yet careful of her, careful of her body in a way no one else in her life had been-- he'd ask what she wanted, his hands, his mouth, him inside of her, and she'd say _yes_ , and she'd ask what he wanted and he would say _yes_ , and they'd hold each other and get their skin touching, and they'd dive down until air was water and water air, until they could breathe with each other's lungs and smile each other's smiles.

And she'd get to hear his breath when he was trying to control himself and she'd get to make those small sounds she knew she would make. She knew that she could be vulnerable, for those few minutes, could let someone else touch her, the way she had never willingly been touched, and she knew that he would be worth the work, the effort of freeing herself from the way that she thought about bodies like his.

Or maybe he'd lean back on the couch and she'd crawl up into his lap, body tight against his, curling up around him, hands on his face, thumbs moving across the planes of his cheekbones. Maybe she'd brush her lips across his cheeks, pressing her nose to hishair and feeling the shiver of him under her legs. She'd get to learn if he liked to be touched with the pads of her fingers or her thick palms of her hands, if he preferred fingers or tongue along his chest or the slow sweet press through too many laters of clothing.

She'd get to know what he liked -- and here she paused, thinking -- maybe he doesn't like anything at all. Maybe he wanted to hold and be held, to sleep in each other;'s arms, to feel the skin-hunger sated and have the intimacy of a bed without the other overwhelming things that can happen in it. And she rolled that thought around in her head; she'd be disappointed, because she knew her body wanted things that came from bodies touching each other in that way, but she also knew that, if what she got, at the end of the day, was someone who she wanted to go to sleep with and wake up with, she'd be the luckiest scavenger in the galaxy. They hadn't _talked_ about any of this, she'd been so afraid that talking would lead to _doing_ and she mourned the time, what she hadn't sought to know. If he didn't that kind of touch, then she'd have someone who cared for her, who cared for how much she cared about the world, who knew her and still wanted to know more about her. She'd have a partner; she found in her heart, that that would be more than enough.

He brushed against her mind, his own yearning for her body filling out another vision between them -- they were lying in a bed, heat of their bodies still in the quilt as a hard rain moved over the wide-paned glass window; it was a planet she'd never been on but that was as clear as memory in his mind. The bed was big and warm, the room was more wood than stone and more firelight than nightdark; the window looked out onto a drenched garden, thick with happy weeds and overgrown roses; private and tall, apart and safe.

He was on his back and she was over him, hands moving across his chest as he moved inside of her. Rey could feel her hair was down and see his was back, his eyes on hers, impossibly dark and intense in a way that made her bear down, trying to get him even deeper, get even fuller with the perfect sensation of being one being, one set of lungs paired between two chests, one heart in the other's breast, and everything in between shared and known.

His hand trailed up to her breast and she arched her back, the sensation of him moving in her nothing like she could explain and nothing she'd ever want to miss.

He slipped into the vision, no longer watching but in the man beneath her, rolling them both as her legs gripped tight and safe around him, keeping him inside of her as he pushed up harder and deeper into her, the slick stretch of it and the smell of their two bodies everywhere and his breath catching with each thrust and hers moaning high in her throat. She reached up her hand, cupping his cheek and saying:

"I love you, Ben."

And the vision broke, Rey gasping, heart pounding, body aching from the phantom loss as Ben pressed his mouth to her neck: "I love you, Rey. And I promise. I promise I'll fight. For you. And for that future."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that took a bit longer than ever. Classes were really a stretch last quarter and I just got everything else in order I could come back to this wonderful fic that I love. Thank you for all of your patience and I think you're going to like this chapter.

And the vision broke, Rey gasping, heart pounding, body aching from the phantom loss as Ben pressed his mouth to her neck: "I love you, Rey. And I promise. I promise I'll fight. For you. And for that future."

She kissed him again, utterly undone, hands in his hair. She walked him back until he smacked into the tall pine; he groaned at the friction, the insistent contact, yanking her closer until her thighs where spread around his knee, pressing her core against him almost perfectly. Any thought of her rules, of their plans, had been drowned-out for this second by the cacophony of their combined breaths, by the pressure of blood in their veins.

"This alright?" He asked and she nodded, catching her breath in the sweet smell of his skin. It was at that moment, as the dimming light of the afternoon glinted on the edges of the frost-nicked needles, that they heard the rancor approaching.

It started as a rumble, in the valley behind the clearing where they were breathing. They froze, a hair's breadth apart, gasping into each other's mouths. The rumbling continued, underbrush snapping, leaves flailed to the side. By the time Rey pulled back, the sound was too close for them to do anything but -- _hide_ Ben thought at her, arms gripping hers, and she flashed panic at him, exhausted from flight, not sure where she could get the power -- and in the moment before the rancor came around their tree, Ben gripped Rey's arms, twisting and pushing her against the bark, shielding her entire body with his as he squeezed his eyes tight, and shifted them between the atoms of their surroundings, his connection to the lightside their only protection.

Over Ben's shoulder, Rey saw it: how this use of the Force thrummed along the golden lifeline of every living thing around them, like gilded threads running between every tree and branch, the spines on the needles brushed with glittering amber. Even the dead leaves, the cloth of Ben's shirt, they shimmered with tiny microscopic life, roving and roaming without knowing the cause of their hosts' shaking. 

The rancor's light was dull, like the view inside the muzzle of a blaster right before it goes off. The massive thing snuffled and whuffed around them, smelling its way into the grove. It's teeth were _massive_ , pointed and dripping cold saliva on the gold-drop-teaming leaves. Rey felt her heart kick up, Ben's sense-memory of what those teeth could do to a young body flooding her as he tried to track it while it moved behind him, every muscle in his body tense. They'd left without her lightsaber, without even a comm line.

The giant thing settled down in the clearly, eyes dreary and drooping, and began to clean itself in thick, slurping sounds that made Rey want to gag. Ben's mind was still a cold fury, carefully controlled, focused on keeping them hidden. She tried to give him some of her mind-space, to feel what it was he needed to, and it was like getting rolled inside of a wave, the fear and pain, the old scars, the bites he'd survived as he slowly lost his ability to heal, as he slowly dove deeper and deeper into what Snoke had commanded him to be.

She tried to breathe through it, but it was like that first night on the Falcon, when she couldn't get her mind away from the story his scars told her, couldn't stop herself from seeing his fifteen-year-old face, eyes terrified, slashing and struggling with what would become her lightsaber to survive in this terrible place. She was wrapped up in it, sucked into it, when she felt the barest pressure on her forehead. Ben had leaned in touching his too-cold skin against her fear-flushed face, and passing through: _focus on me, tell me what you see._

Her eyes snapped to his, and she said: _brown eyes, almost black; fifteen, no, sixteen beauty marks; wide lips; wrinkled forehead; sex hair._

_Now, what you hear_. She hadn't thought of it before, but his voice in her head was just a touch higher than it was when he spoke; some of the resonance was changed. Maybe that's how he sounded to himself, unable to hear how his voice echoed in his massive chest from inside his own eardrums?

_A rancor slobbering; the wind; your heart; my heart; your voice inside my head_.

His forehead pressed a little more against hers in the barest reminders of a nod. _You know the rest_.

_Touching me: your skin, your tunic, your thigh_ , and she held back a squirm. _I can smell your sweet smell and the crushed leaves, and I can still taste you in my mouth_. His breath sucked in, chest tense, and then he let it go, breathing returning to normal, unheard under the rancor's self-lapping.

_A little better?_ he asked, and she pressed her forehead tighter to his in a silent yes. The rancor, having finished his ablutions, took this moment to stand on his hind legs, roaring contentedly to itself, then galumphing back into the forest. Ben and Rey waited long moments before moving away from the tree, then slipping back into late afternoon haze of reality. 

The mood was snapped, but Rey kept her hand in his, kept her fingers tight around his. She was looking down, still trying to catch her breath and collect her bearings after what they'd shown each other, what they'd done. 

He pressed his mouth to the space behind her ear and whispered: "Want to head back?"

Rey nodded, gripping his hands in hers, breathing still catching in her chest. He drew her to him, arms behind her back, and this time, he didn't ask her to close her eyes.

\--

They arrived back at the cottages, Rey's eyes full of the stars they'd been that much closer to as they soared; before Rey could start the conversation about what had happened on the mountain top and what it meant, Finn came running up to them, bent over and gasping:

"Where were you guys?" he asked when he could finally breathe. He was looking rosy, either from the sun or his partners' attention; it was hard to tell.

Rey and Ben looked at each other and Rey said: "Flying."

Finn scoffed, then at their unchanging faces, his eyes slowly widening as he believed. He took a step closer, voice worried:

"Let's keep that you can do that between us, ok you two?" He glanced at Ben, "Some communications came, from Jyndan Ingo and others, while you were," and here he paused again, "out; that you need to see."

Rey squeezed Ben's fingers a last time before nodding to Finn.

Ben said: "Let's go."

\--

The communicsations were: an encrypted video from Jyndan Ingo addressed to all four of them; a message from him to Ben; and a message for Rose. The General's attache had sent only one decorder key, which worked fine for Rose's but turned Jyndan's message into scrambled garbage. Rose read hers to the group while they waited for a new encryption key and Finn was getting the video ready to play from the beginning, rewinding from where he and Rose had watched it:

 

 

 

> Dear Rose,
> 
> Your friends in the mechanics' group miss you so much. We had to keep a dozen speeders off the line since you left that I just know you could have fixed in a spark, you're our Q-U-E-E-N of mucking old tech into something usable. After the big thing last week, there's a lot of swamp-stuff to get out of the engines and kid-graffiti to get off the walls of the transport shuttles. 
> 
> I've heard you'll be back soon -- you're going to love this shop we've got here on D------; top-of-the-line stuff. No more junkratting for us! I hope you've had a good time off, but it'll be back-to-work as soon as you get here!
> 
> There was a nice ceremony for Paige and the rest, we said your piece for her. 
> 
> We miss you so much. 
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> Jessika

Rose's voice started quaking halfway through reading it, breaking entirely and going grey at her sisters' name. Finn wrapped her up in his arms, but she stayed pale, jaw tight, eyes brimming until she shoved away, slamming the bathroom door shut and running water. Finn gave the door a worried look and was moving towards it when the decoder machine dinged, indicating the video was ready for viewing. Still waiting on the attache sending the right key for Jyndan's message, Finn sat Ben down in front of the screen, Rey standing behind him, and pressed play.

The video was grainy and grey, camera designed for battle squadron coordination, not legal documentation; it showed a warehouse courtroom with rough-cut shipping-crate benches groaning under the weight of resistance members; Rey recognized friends not seen in months. She didn't see the General or her attache anywhere; perhaps they were watching R2's feed at a distance. At the front of the court room was a Mon Calamari woman in a traditional judge's uniform, the scales of justice stitched in place of a rank signifier. The camera panned -- and Rey realized it was from an odd height, sounds of clicking accompanying the movement. 

Finn murmured to Ben: "R2 agreed to be the camera operator, to keep you in the loop until you arrived."

The angle panned to a row of 12 resistance soldiers, backs straight on mismatched stools, hands hanging between their spread knees, wrapped around their stomaches, clutching the sides of their chairs.  _Not a happy bunch_ , Rey thought.

Something moved behind the jurors and one of them flinched hard enough to smack her neighbor with her elbow before she schooled her face, and Rey realized it wasn't the poor video quality that was making the ground behind the jurors seem to writhe and swim: it was ysalamiri, walking about, huddling around a great trough of water, munching happily on something. The audio quality was better than the video, and Rey realized the background sound she'd been hearing hadn't been static: it had been the sound of the ysalamiri's long claws scraping over the cement warehouse floor.

Jyndan Ingo walked into the frame and sat beside a human man with short hair and a Chriss man with deep blue skin; the prosecutor and the defense for the guards, if Rey had to guess.

The judge stood and spoke:  "Today is the first day of the trial of the 13 guards of the Chriss prison on Nauticus in relation to their treatment of Ben Organa-Solo and the trial of Ben Organa-Solo for war crimes."

"Objection."

The camera swept away from the judge and a man stood from where he'd been seated in a chair on the front row. The judge nodded that he could continue.

"Your honor, the accused has used the name 'Kylo Ren' to strike fear into the hearts of millions for over a decade; why are we using his birth name?"

The judge nodded to Jyndan for his response. Rey leaned closer, heart tight in her chest as she tried to think what Jyndan could say:

"Your honor, it is my understanding that Ben Solo grew up in the resistance, child and nephew of its most well-known leaders; there is likely no person in this room who does not know that Kylo Ren was born Ben Organa-Solo. In the memories the ysalamiri are prepared to share, as previously agreed to by both parties, the guards will use the name Kylo Ren for him, so it is useful to ensure the jury knows to whom they refer," there was a murmur, not laughter necessarily, but of acknowledgement from those in the audience that he was right. The judge narrowed his side-facing eyes at each sector of the courtroom in turn until there was silence.

The judge paused for a moment: "I am one of the few old-timers still-around who did not grow-up with Ben Organa-Solo, as I was tending to my family's affairs on Mon Cala during his childhood. That is one of the reasons I am serving as judge in this matter, so that my gaze will not be filmed with memories of what was." He turned to the prosecutor. 

"We are not here to play linguistic games, Captain Selvi. We are here to determine the guilt and punishment of 14 people, 13 for crimes against one imprisoned, and one for crimes against life in the galaxy. Let's keep things focused, shall we?"

Captain Selvi nodded stiffly and at the Judge's gesture, both he and Jyndan Ingo returned to their seats.

The judge shook himself, thick lips working, before he continued:

"As I was saying, today is the first day of the trial. As you all heard during the jury selection process, we have divided this trial into two parts: you will begin the trial by reviewing the treatment of Ben Organa-Solo by the guards using the memories of the ysalamiri; after a determination of guilt and opportunity for sentencing, you will review testimony against Ben Organa-Solo and determine guilt, if any, and sentencing, if appropriate." 

"As he was imprisoned by them for 60 days, a complete record of his time there would consume an impossible amount of resources. I have therefore, working with a disinterested team of clerks, removed from consideration all periods he was sleeping or otherwise unbothered, leaving approximately 100 hours of memories to be shared as evidence and testimony. After each incident is viewed, jurors will have the opportunity to question the guards involved."

"A point of order, your honor," Jyndan Ingo was standing, hands soft at his sides. The judge nodded:

"Correct me if I am mistaken, but the jury will have the opportunity to question _both_ Mr Organa-Solo and the guards? My client will be arriving tomorrow evening and is prepared to answer questions immediately."

The judge nodded. "Correct, counselor. Thank you." He looked to the jury. "We will spend the first 2 days acquainting you with the people involved for both parts of this trial -- the Chriss guards and the major actors in the First Order who were involved in the atrocities which we are reviewing." He took a breath: "Are there any questions?"

A juror, a big man with a greying beard cut close to his face, asked in a halting voice: 

"Will we feel it -- the torture?" His eyes were a little wild and Rey winced. She glanced down at Ben, but he was looking steadily at the man, waiting for the judge's reply. 

 

The judge said: "You will not. I have reviewed the first 2 weeks of the footage and as I said, I am reviewing it with my clerks as we go, to provide you the edited version. What I saw, and what you will see, is what the ysalamiri saw -- but also what they heard and smelled. For those of you not used to using the full spectrum of your senses, this may take some adjusting to." 

There was the sound of a chuckle from the species in the courtroom used to the dullness of human senses. "As you can see," and he gestured to the ysalamiri behind the jurors. "There were about a half-dozen ysalamiri present during the time in question, so I have selected the memories of those who had the fullest views of what happened. If needed, we can of course request different angles, if available." He took another breath, the air whuffling as he sighed: "As nearly everything we are reviewing is disturbing and some extremely so, if there are questions you wish to ask me, or the prosecutor, or the defense without Mr Organa-Solo or the guards present, you may do so."

"Objection." The Chriss defense attorney stood, and the judge motioned him up, along with Captain Selvi.

He nodded to the Chriss man to continue: "Under Chriss legal tradition, my clients must have the option of being present when their accusations are discussed."

The judge leveled a severe look at the Chriss attorney: "We are not a Chriss Court, Counselor Bongua. The communication included with your clients' transfer to resistance custody was this and only this: that they were being rendered ‘as a gesture of good will and with our apologies,’ and ‘We didn’t realize he had the protection of the Jedi. They are yours for trial.' There was no stipulation as to the kind of trial they would receive."

The Chriss attorney nodded, before bulling on: "Apologies, your honor, I misspoke. What I meant to say is that my clients would strongly prefer to be present to answer any questions, no matter how, 'disturbing,' about their conduct." He paused, eyes blinking rapidly.

The judge nodded, and looked at the jury, before looking at Jyndan: "And your client, counselor Ingo?"

Jyndan bowed his head, saying: "Mr Organa-Solo will be completely available to the jury for any questions, but understands that I am here as his representative if they are not comfortable asking him directly about his torture."

The judge looked at Counselor Bongua to see if he would object to that characterization of his clients' behavior, but there was none. He nodded: "So be it."

He turned to the jury again: "Any other questions about how evidence will be presented?" The view panned to the jury and they stood stock still, though one on the end looked a little nauseas.

The judge flipped to another page on his tablet, saying: "That brings me to the question of security. As Mr Ingo mentioned, Mr Organa-Solo will be here tomorrow night. He is currently under armed guard by the Jedi Rey and Commander Poe Dameron on a deserted island, recuperating so he can be completely available to the jury. While he is here, he will be kept in a cell to be guarded by resistance soldiers at all times, and will only be allowed out to attend his trial. The Chriss guards are in a different part of the grounds, likewise detained. Because of the unique nature of Mr Organa-Solo's connection to the Force, the ysalamiri play a secondary role, in addition to their memory-sharing abilities. They will block anyone and everyone with Force-sensitivities within this compound from accessing them." 

He scanned the audience. "Some of you may have found yourselves less lucky, less quick than you were before their arrival. Congratulations, you are a Force-sensitive. Apologies, for the inconvenience. Their area of effect ends just outside the compound walls, so if you really need to win at Sabacc, play in the street." There was a low murmur of laughter that hushed at his glance.

"The ysalamiri will keep Mr Organa-Solo from potentially manipulating those present, though I have been informed by those who knew him his skills tend more towards combat and frontal attacks, rather than subtle manipulation. In plain words, he will be powerless on the grounds, as will the Jedi Rey; so you are, as always, responsible for your own thoughts and feelings."

He looked at the jury: "Any questions on security?"

A woman on the far end raised her hand, face twisted: "Your honor, it seems to me we're going about this backwards, out-of-order. Two of my children were on Yavin IV: Kylo Ren killed one and the other, where she is now, is worse than death." There was a sound from the audience, a sharing of sorrow. The woman continued, her voice stronger: "We should start at the beginning, go on until we reach the end, and then stop." Two other jury members nodded and the judge cut-in, voice carefully level:

"Commander Lila, how do you think the reordering of the trial would impact the justice obtained?"

She shook her head: "Like I said when they selected me, I am open to learning something new about what happened on Yavin IV, Tuanul, to the entire kriffing Hosnian system, to _Han_ ; but if, at the end of the day, Kylo Ren is guilty, then maybe what those guards did  _was_  his justice and we shouldn't punish them for doing it for us."

There was silence in the courtroom, and into it the judge spoke: "Commander Lila, I have reviewed the tapes. You know, as well as I do, that one of the things that divides the Resistance from the First Order, divided the Rebellion from the Empire, is our belief in the dignity and rights of every life. That belief means we don't torture: not for information, not for revenge, and certainly not for justice."

"I believe you will see, as you committed yourself to doing by agreeing to be on this jury, that what was done to Ben Organa-Solo cannot be considered justice. I ordered the trial beginning with his treatment at Nauticus because in many ways, it is the simplest matter before you. We have laws against torture; you will review the memories of the ysalamiri to see if what was done to him meets the definition of torture; if it does, you will sentence those guilty using the guidelines included in our laws."

The judge's voice had risen as he spoke, but now he grew quieter: "The questions of what he did, or did not do, are much larger, and not for nothing, require the transportation of many more witnesses to a base we just came to this morning, one that may be revealed and attacked at any time. I prefer not to waste their time and yours when we have all of the witnesses and accused in one place. Does that answer your question?"

Commander Lila nodded, looking chastened.

The judge looked around the room, rolling his shoulders: "Alright, counselors, let's begin by introducing the accused."

Finn clicked off the video and Rey looked down at Rose, who'd returned, and then at Ben, his face stony, muscles tense all the way down his neck and into his shoulder. Finn turned to them both, an apologetic look on his face:

"See what I said, about keeping the whole flying thing to ourselves? They think Ben's been on lockdown here, and well, I don't think with that kind of jury it's going to do him any favors if they think he's been chilling."

Rose had returned and interrupted: "He  _has_ been under armed guard; this _is_ a deserted island; we've been giving daily reports, as promised. If our idea of prison is a bit more humane and if we're all," and she glanced to Rey and Finn before nodding, "Of the opinion Ben deserved -- and deserves -- a kriffing lot better than a jail cell, well, it's important that we act on it. We didn't do anything wrong."

Rey raised her hand: "I don't think we or Ben did anything wrong during our time on Lehon, but I agree with Finn. If Jyndan thinks we need to keep things looking straight-and-narrow, let's do that." She gripped Ben's shoulder and he leaned his head back into her, eyes on the blank screen:

"Need a minute?" Rose asked, and Ben nodded, shaky. 

"Want me to go too?" Rey asked, and Ben shook his head. Rose and Finn headed out, and once they closed the door, Ben folded his arms over the console, breathing hard in the gap.

Rey knelt down beside him, head against his shoulder. She wanted to tell him how proud she was of Jyndan, how much hope the judge's approach gave her, but she had no idea, none in the entire galaxy, what is was like to see people who'd he'd grown-up with get prepped to see him tried for war crimes and as a survivor of torture. So she held the silence between them, breathing.

Ben's voice was quiet: "Jyndan was pretty good, I thought." Rey nodded, knowing Ben could feel it against his side. One of his hands draped a little closer to her, his fingers running through her hair, over and over.

He took a deep breath: "And the guards' attorney seems like a total idiot." Rey huffed out a laugh, agreeing.

He shook his head: "And Daria Lila, her youngest died when the temple fell; he was one of the littles ones there," he inhaled, air catching on the way in, continuing: "Her eldest, she's still in the Knights of Ren; or, she was." Rey nodded in acknowledgement, wondering if it would make Commander Lila more or less peaceful to know more about how she'd lost her children, or if knowing Ben could come back made her wonder if her own daughter could return as well.

In the quiet of the moment, the decryptor alerted them that the message accompanying the video had been decoded. It was short:

 

 

 

> First day of trial went well. Rest-up, it's going to get worse before it gets better. I'm already looking into who is paying for the guards' attorney, if you can call him that. Chewbacca will be there at 0500 tomorrow morning with our new coordinates. 
> 
>  
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Jydan Ingo
> 
> PS: The ysalamiri appreciated the lettuce.

They read it together and Ben chuckled at the end.  Rey patted his knee and said: "Speaking-of; let's get some food." Ben nodded, but as she stood, wrapped his hand around her elbow, drawing her closer.

"I wanted to say -- I meant it, what I said on the mountain." His eyes were close, intent on hers. 

"I did too." Rey said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind his ear.

"And I also think you were right." He said, a tone in his voice she couldn't quiet place.

"Generally," she said with a grin: "What about this time?"

He set his jaw and said: "About waiting." She kept herself from pulling away, but only barely; she hadn't known what their time on the mountain had meant, but she'd hoped, she'd thought, she knew better than to -- he kept going:

"Rose's right and you were right: I have been under armed guard here. It didn't feel like that most of the time; I've felt safe and free. But in a real way, this could have gotten all kinds of twisted if we'd gone further than we have." He rolled his shoulders back, looking like he was bracing for a blow but keeping going.

"And I think we should keep waiting, until after the trial, until I'm actually free -- not," he hurried as her face started to reflect the frozen turmoil inside of her, wondering if she'd pushed him, if she'd -- "Not because it will change the outcome. Like I said, theesa: I love you. But because I want our first time together to be just us, no trial hanging over our heads, no one to report to. Just you. Just me. There and free and safe and _loved_."

Rey nodded, pressing her forehead to his and squeezing her eyes shut, locking that part of her away again, lock and key, bolt and notch. Into his hair she whispered: "I love you too."

He wrapped his long arms around her, and the feeling of him, the closeness, was almost too much after what they'd agreed. But she rode that edge, that line, just so she could feel the reality of him there.

"Alright," he said, "Let's see what Poe's made."

\--

Dinner was a left-over-special, clearing out the last of their goodies. They all went to their cottages to do a final clean-up before Chewie arrived, figuring it would be an all-nighter. Rey looked around her room, collecting the seashells and small rocks she'd been pocketing as she walked the beaches before wrapping them carefully in an undershirt tucked into the middle of her duffle. She looked at her room: this was the safest place she could ever remember calling home. 

She smiled a goodbye at the room, heart aching at the thought of leaving. She decided she needed to say goodbye in a firmer way, and pulled-out her swimming things, heading-out to the hot springs for a final soak, passing Ben's room and seeing him lost in one of their books.

As she approached, she saw she wasn't the only one wanting to say goodbye: a small fire burning in the pit, the remains of the big cottage's trash fluttering in the flames. 

Rose was sitting alone with the fire, looking into it, eyes steady, as she considered the flames. Rey sat down beside her.

"On a dry planet, you never leave a fire alone," Rose said. Rey looked at the kilometers and kilometers of bare, stone-sprinkled sand around them and nodded. She could understand following rules from growing-up, the kinds of rules that no longer made sense in her new life. She didn't know if she would ever stop tracking where her next sip of water was going to come from.

Rose's eyes were tight, more than the firelight making them flicker. "My sister, Paige, she loved setting fires. It was her thing, as soon as my Dad would let her start trying; always setting the fires when we went camping, before the First Order came; after, when we were hiding, we pretended it was camping; or, our parents tried to." 

She shook her head, hair longer than it had been when Rey had first seen her, lying so, so still in the bunk on the Falcon. "I guess they didn't want us to be scared when we were hiding, deep in the caves." She looked up a Rey, and her eyes were revenant. 

"But how could we keep from being scared? They were bombing us, Rey; over and over and over again; they were bombing us. They wanted to kill us, or at least, that's what I thought," and she leaned forward, shoving her face into her hands. 

"That's what I used to think, but it was worse: the First Order didn't care if we lived or died. They just wanted to test their weapons, like the ones they used on Hosnia, like the one they used on us on Crait."

She shook her head again. "I don't know how I've managed to stay out of the fight for this long; I don't know how I've managed it at all. For the longest time, I was all I cared about, all I could _think_ , all I could _breathe_ \-- it was the only way." 

And she choked, just a little, and then Finn was there; Rey hadn't seem him approaching, but he was there, his arm around Rose's shoulders, tipping her damp face into his dark-shirted chest. He looked over at Rey, and she expected to see reproach, for her role in bringing this pain, for making Rose cry; but instead, she saw something like gratitude, something like thanks. She nodded, not sure what he was thanking her for. Then he said, his voice a low rumble:

"Let it out, just let it out. It's like you told me Rose, out on the salt plain: we don't win by killing what we hate, but by saving what we love. Our time here, a peaceful time, being with each other, this is what we're saving; this is what we've been fighting for." 

Poe came up behind them, quick dark eyes scanning the group before wrapping his massive wingspan around both of his people, as Finn pressed the side of his face into the other man's collarbone and Rose pushed her hand free to grip Poe's own.

Poe said: "And being real, there hasn't been a lot to do for us these past few months. They've been regrouping, doing spy-stuff that all of us are too well-known to do, and flirting with rich people for funding, which none of us are subtle enough to handle." 

Rose gave a damp laugh and Rey wanted to move away, to give them all some space, when Rose said:

"It seems silly to worry about this now we're nearly back, but when the General offered me this mission, this time off, I nearly said no. I nearly insisted I stay, watch the fires, keep what ships flying I could, keep what people off the front lines I could." She looked between the two men: "I am so glad that I did."

Her hand crept to her neck where Rey knew her last talisman from her home planet hung between her breasts.

"What made you come?" Rey heard herself ask. She'd wondered the same thing, wondered if saving Ben, as much as it was something she knew she needed to do, something she deeply wanted to do, was the best use of her time. She knew there were other, bigger decisions, coming down the pipeline for her, and she wanted to know how Rose, someone she respected, someone whose judgement and wit she'd come to admire, had made this choice.

Rose laughed again, and this time there was a bit of strength in the sound of it, a bit of comfort. "I heard Paige's voice telling me, 'Fire needs fuel.' She'd say you can't make light and heat from nothing. Food, water, shelter; yes. But comfort, friends, connection, even love -- those are your tinder, the food your fire needs to guide people home to a free Republic, the fire you need to burn the First Order down."

Finn's arms went tighter around her, but Poe's eyes found Rey's. They were steady when he said: "Sometimes, people start off with the wrong fuel, it makes them burn dark, burn wild; but sometimes, if you can change the fuel, you can change the kind of fire, change everything about it. Sometimes love, connection, people, those things can change everything except for how a person fights, after the've chosen what to fight for."

And Rey stood, nodding, stepping back, moving towards the cottages, thinking as she moved easily over the moonlit sand. She hadn't had good fuel for a long, long time growing up: resentment, pain, fear, all of those had made her burn hard and bright; but she'd still found joy and friendship, still taken pride in her strength, her abilities to build and grow and get better and be faster, strong than others thought she could.

But Poe hadn't been talking about her; none of them thought of her as broken, as needed to have her cracks filled with gold, though she knew she was as shattered as Ben in her own way. Poe had been talking about Ben, Ben burning bright on Snoke's hatred, on Luke's fear, on the General and Han's disinterest or their constant worrying about what their legacy would mean for their young son. He thought that Ben had found a new fuel in her, in them, that might make him into a good weapon for the resistance.

But Rey didn't think so. Rey thought that Ben had been burning, burning and burning inside of all of that smoke, his light bright and possible, and waiting for someone to take away everything smothering him, everything keeping his light dark. He'd used pain as fuel, and anger as fuel, over and over and over again; she'd seen that. She didn't dispute it. But that darkness hadn't been the fire; it had been what hid his light. And she didn't think she was changing everything about him; but some parts, just building on what was there, giving him a vision of a better place to go than the the one he'd lived in before, always felt he was alone in.

He'd said she burned bright for him, but to her, it was the other way around: he'd lit her way home. And after the trial, she'd help him find his.

\--

Chewie arrived, bright and early, and Rey threw herself into his hug. He squished her to him with a delighted howl before yanking Ben in, the young man ducking his head to avoid the Wookie rubbing his hair into a total mess. For the journey, he'd put his hair in a simple style, pulled back, away from his face, and he looked younger, healthier for it, for all that it made his scar more visible.

Rey had stowed her things, Ben going back for a load of books, when Chewie came to give her the name of the planet, asking if she would co-pilot. She said she'd be honored, but wasn't sure how to take the tone he said the name of the planet:  Deyala.

Rey pulled it up on a star-chart: it was in the middle of a massive asteroid field, but other than that, looked like a regular 4-season human-habitable planet. She was just about to open its history when Rose came up and stopped, eyes going wide. Rey peered around the whirling asteroids and asked:

"What's that look for?"

Rose shook her head. "You should ask Ben," and hurried to the room she'd be sharing with Finn and Poe.

Rey shook her head and asked the Falcon to plot a course. The ship  gave a strange chirping sound and asked if she wanted to use a previous flightpath. 

She pulled it up from the system's history: the later parts of the flight plan super-imposed bright yellow on the current star-chart. 

They  _looked_ similar, just a little bit over, hovering near a larger planet, unlabeled in this low-res version. Deyala was a sister to the bigger planet. 

Rey checked the date on the chart -- 30 years before. The chart owner in the database was Han Solo. 

She clicked to see the name of the larger planet, the Falcon's system fudging and chirruping as it pulled the information.

Something about that date on the star chart was sticking with her, something about it shaking loose. She flipped over to the most recent star charts they'd received, and it took a second to load then -- 

"Alderaan," she whispered.

She flipped to the full version of the old star chart and saw two beautiful, blue-and-green planets, Alderaan and Deyala. She flipped back to to newest one: just Deyala, all alone in an asteroid field called 'The Graveyard.'

She heard Ben coming up the stairs and scrambled to shut-off the projector. She knew he was going to have some strong reaction and she didn't want him to walk into a room-filling projection of the system his grandfather destroyed. The projector cycled and hummed and generally slow-walked her, so in desperation she stood in front of it, almost feeling the asteroids that were all that was left of Leia's adopted home planet circling and swirling on her back. He looked at her strangely before ducking into their room to tuck the books into the wall shelf. When he came out, she was in the same position, arms crossed.

"Rey?" he asked. "What's up?" 

She tried to keep her voice even:  "I found out where the trial is being held."

"And?" He asked, smiling, stepping towards her.  


"It's Deyala." She said, and his face -- crumpled.  He took a step back, shaking his head.

"That's not possible -- how could the resistance have a base there? That's _in the Core._ She's got to get out there -- there's --" and he was diving forward to the empty cockpit, hand going to the comms line. He growled, the Falcon beeping at him for a password, and Rey shoved her hand between him and the console to help, tapping it in, sending him to the General's attache.

She went through the careful vetting as quickly as she could with Ben hunched over her, jiggling his leg the whole time, until finally, she could say clearly and sure the line was secure --

"Ben has --"

And he broke in: "The General isn't safe on Deyala; the entire planetary leadership on the Core Worlds is on the take with the First Order. We had -- they had -- all of their children as hostages. Whatever they've said, whatever they've promised, it's a trap, and you have to get her out of there."

The assistant listened carefully, then in a hurried voice said, "I have the General here; she wants to speak with you."

Ben made a frustrated noise, but seconds later, the General's voice came through loud and clear:

"Ben, are you alright?"

" _Yes,"_ he said, voice deep with frustration, "But you've got to --"

"Ben, we got the kids back." Ben's eyes went wide and then he collapsed into the co-pilot's chair, shoulders a line of exhaustion, hands covering his face, breathing ragged.

"How? They were --"

"On Dathomir, I know. Ben, the operation last week that left the Order so distracted we were able to do that video call, it had a military purpose, but the most important was the diplomatic purpose -- we got all of the kids out and delivered them safely back to their parents. No child hostages remain from any of the core worlds, and we're building out a plan to get the others back to the outer regions."

Ben's voice was rough as he asked: "How did you know --"

"I appreciate you telling me, Ben; it means a lot. But in this particular and probably limited case, we're ahead of you on this one. It's an old tactic, older even than the Empire."

"I remember," he said, voice dark, and Rey started, glancing at him in confusion.

The General drew a deep breath, deep enough Rey could hear her through the Falcon's tinny speaker.

"After we brought their young-ones back, the leadership let us build a base here on Deyala; one of the Senators is even lending us her chateau as a starting-point -- really more of a hyper-tech castle -- and we're going to be using their private security codes while going into and out of the Core."

"I, I didn't think it was possible," he murmured to the console, and the General hummed.

"Neither did I. It wouldn't have been without you."

Ben jerked his head up, staring at the speaker: "What do you mean?"

The General continued: "I'd forgotten, for far too long, what it means to a parent to know their child is safe. Speaking with you after you got out, knowing you're safe and getting better, reminded me of that universal truth. So when one of our allies let-slip where the children were being kept a few months back, I dedicated all of our resources to smuggling them out."

There was a sound of her wry grin. "It wasn't an easy mission, but the Force moves thickly on Dathomir, and the witches don't like child snatchers, no matter who is doing the snatching."

Ben nodded, eyes a little dazed. There was a sound on the other end of the line and the General said, voice more distant: "Thank you again, theesa, for telling me. I'll meet you when you come in tonight, 1900 sharp. Tell Chewie if he didn't bring me some Kashyyyk jam this time, he can sleep in the Falcon for all I care."

Ben nodded and Rey ended the transmission. She looked over at him, eyes wide:

"The First Order kidnapped peoples' kids?" She asked, voice low. He nodded, slowly:

"It was a boarding school for lordlings and ladylites, just like the Senate school I was sent to before everything fell apart again. Elite families were offered the privilege of sending their young-ones there; they could come back for holidays, of course. But yes, the reality was that behind the galaxy-class tutors and stunning grounds, the purpose of the school was ensuring that whoever controlled it, controlled the children of the elites, controlled the elites themselves. The Senate school was never so crass as to bring it up, but it was in the under-veins of the place."

Ben shuddered and Rey put her hand on his shoulder. He pressed it closer to his skin, grateful for the contact.

"But it's over now, right?"

Ben nodded, still looking like he didn't believe it: "That's what it sounds like. I never thought -- it was outside of my area of authority, but I never thought I could stop it, but there always seemed to be so many things in the way of fixing it. Just going in, getting the kids; that never would have occurred to me."

Rey nodded slowly, "I'm glad they're out," she glanced at Ben, switching tactics:  "Do you think they have libraries on Alderaanian history?" And felt her heart swell as his eyes got wide and he started to ramble, making a list ofbooks and records.

\--

A few hours into the trip to Deyala, Poe called them together for a final group-meal, getting  Ben laughing quietly as he unwound a story, the telling of it getting infinitely taller the longer he could spin it out. There was something about a bog chase and a swamp wampa and -- Rey stopped listening as soon as she discovered Poe had not finished his share of the candy. 

She was munching happily and competing with Rose for the wildest experiences retro-fitting old-Empire tech -- Rose's system hadn't had a ships' graveyard, but they had had a lot of trade coming through in scrap. Rey slowly realized that some of the scrap she'd pulled from downed-Destroyers had probably gone through Unkar's measuring and metering, then shipped-out to Rose's system for re-use, re-organization, re-purposing for the next war, or the next one after that. She liked to think it meant they would have met, in any version of this galaxy, eventually.

Rose had just started describing what it was like to take apart a transformer that had been mispacked -- "All kinds of helter-skelter madness with the coils"  \-- when Chewie called for her, needing a hand at the helm. As she stood to turn away, she heard Ben tease Poe about his story, sneaking some of his candy. The chatter and warmth, the clinking of plates: she tried to wrap those sounds in her heart forever.

She sat in the co-pilot's seat, and reminded Chewie about the General's jam. He nodded seriously and patted his bandolier. Then his face drooped and he reached beside him, pulling-out a wooden box. He passed it over to her and she opened the lid with a creak: inside here a pair of handcuffs. He motioned to Ben -- Ben who was laughing, gesturing wildly as he explained that you  _couldn't_ catch a wampa in a bog, they were  _desert_ rodents -- and reminded Rey that he'd need to be cuffed when he came down the plank on Deyala.

Rey closed her eyes, head hurting at the thought of binding him.

"Let's just wait, just a few more hours."

Chewie hummed in disagreement, but let it be.

\--

The handcuffs kept dug into Rey's mind for the next few hours. First she tucked them back in their box; then she tucked the box under her seat; then she propped her feet on the closed wooden top. Nothing helped, and the chronometer just kept ticking down the hours until they landed.

The sounds behind her had died down, Poe and Finn and Rose heading back to their room for a nap or something similarly horizontal, Ben laying out on one of the benches in the common room, reading. Rey glanced at Chewie and then the chronometer: they only had an hour left before landing.

She tried to think of something kind, something to distract herself; but all she could see, all she had been seeing for the past hour, was Ben, kneeling in that cell, Captain Jerush's hand twisting in his hair to keep him off balance, hands so tight behind his back his shoulders strained against the ragged fabric of his shirt. She decided that this was going to suck no matter what she did, bit down, and stood, holding the box out in front of her.

She walked over to Ben, setting the box on the table before sitting down next to him. He scooted up so his head was in her lap, then smiled up at her.

"Is this seat taken?"

She managed a weak grin, before shaking her head.

"Good," he said, settling into her a little bit more, hair ticklish against her thigh as he glanced down at his book. He closed it and took a breath. Another breath in, his Force-signature cooled, easing from the high-froth he'd been keeping it at with the others, and he closed his eyes.

"How long?" he asked. 

She passed through,  _only an hour_.

He flinched, then smoothed his face.

"Alright," he said.

She nudged him upright, draping her arm around his waist, head tucked into his shoulder. She tapped the box on the table.  _Chewie says you need to wear handcuffs to leave the Falcon on Deyala_ and she felt him clench, crash down on a memory, a raft of memories, a catastrophe of them, of being held down, of being hung by his wrist, of --

And he closed the link; or, at least, that part of it. She could see the painful memories still flowing through his mind, but he was keeping them from her. He turned away from the box, hiding his face in her hair as he said:

"Do you know, most dungeons are made-up?" He asked, and she shook her head, liking he was talking, not sure she wanted to talk about this.

"They are," he pressed-on, "Most old cultures, the ones we tend to think of having dungeons in the bottoms of their chateaus, at the time they were built, they would have just locked people up in oubliettes, forgetting holes; they would never use-up so much hard-built real estate on criminals. They'd just stuff people in the tinniest places they wouldn't die in. All of those places we think-of as dungeons, they're really just old store-rooms. The bars were to keep the dogs out; or to prevent the upstairs staff or masters' kids from filching."

He took a shuddering breath. "So, wherever they put me, it might look like a prison cell, but in reality, it's a potato cell." And Rey couldn't help it, she giggled, giggling and giggling into his jacket until she felt the tears come. He leaned over her, slipping the wooden lid off the box. He looked-in at the cuffs, then looked at his wrists.

He began rolling-up his sleeves, but she reached out, wrapped her hands around his wrists.

_ Leave it to the last _ _minute_ , she said, and he slowed his fingers, turning them until they held hers.

 _ What should I do with my hands, in this, their last hour of _   _freedom?_  He asked, his eyes twinkling. She narrowed her gaze and pulled them to her face, lips gentle against the warmth of his palm.

"Do you remember how to make battle braids?"

\--

They strode in tight formation down the gangplank of the Falcon, Ben's hands cuffed behind his back, Poe on point, Rey beside Ben with her hair back in tight, intricate braids, Finn and Rose taking up the rear with blast-rifles on their backs.  Before the ysalamiri's dampening field had taken their silent words from them on touch-down, Rey had passed along to Ben: 

_The more we look like we're in control, the less likely someone else will try to take control_. 

She wanted to take him to his cell and have the first watch, the ensure no one got any ideas. He'd nodded, but she could tell his focus was on keeping above the sucking whirlpool of memories the cuffs brought with them. 

Once they were out of the Falcon, Rey's vision greyed-out as their connection to the Force was stripped away. She kept herself from stumbling, and focused on Ben. There was a welcome party at the end of a long gravel drive, a drive ending at the front doors of the single most beautiful house she had ever seen: tall, glinting windows soaring above green gardens, flowers twining around white-painted fences, perfect blue sky overhead, white, pristine gravel crunching beneath her well-worn boots. It smelled clean, like wild mint and lemons.

Rey kept her hand around Ben's wrist as they walked towards the house, theoretically guiding him as he walked but really so that she could keep her fingertips between the thin skin of his right wrist and the cuff. She couldn't keep the kriffing things off him, but she could put herself between them and him as much as she could.

The General stood at the front of the greeting party phalanx, aide standing beside her, datapad in hand. Rey tried to catch the General's eyes, but she couldn't -- she was only looking for Ben. 

Ben's shoulders were straining more than they should have had to, and Rey could feel his breathing coming fast and faster. 

When he stumbled over a large dent in the gravel, she stepped around in front of him, walking backwards, hand on his chest and forcing his eyes to hers, the words "I've got you," on the tip of her tongue when she felt a searing pain in her shoulder and her knees hit the white gravel and as Ben shouted her name, anguish twisting his voice --

Then she was her side on the ground --

Ben was covering her --

Poe shouting orders --

glass shattering, falling --

Rose shouting -- "Got him!" over the sound of blaster fire.

She heard the General's battlefield roar cut through the blast-filled air:  "Cease fire! For fucks sake, Rose got him."

They waited, Ben crouching over her as she tried to breathe through the pain in her shoulder.  Finn had put himself between Ben and the direction of fire, Poe was standing beside him, blaster out, and Rose was still scanning the windows through her blaster's scope. Rey heard the sound of hard-soled boots on gravel but her angle was wrong to see who was approaching.

She heard Ben's voice, desperate as he whispered: "Theesa, I'm going to need to hear your voice," and she took a breath, hissing a little as the movement made the burned skin of her shoulder shift.

"I'm here, Ben. I'm fine." And she heard him let a whole host of fear and pain out in a breath. She tried to chuckle and found herself coughing instead as the sound of boots got closer.

"I can stand, let me up."

"No can do, Rey," came the General's voice and Rey felt Ben stiffen.

"Ben, you need to get up," came his mother's voice, not unkindly. "We need to get you out of the open air, in case there are other assassins."

"Not until I know Rey will to be taken care of."  He turned to his mother, line of his shoulders stubborn:  "If we can get back to the Falcon, get outside of the ysalamiri's influence, I can heal her." A deep breath, then quieter: "Please." 

The General's voice was battlefield flat, but held a thread of surprise: 

"You can heal again?" She aske, and Ben nodded.

"That's -- how, Ben?"

He glanced down at Rey and looked back up: "I can heal _her_."  He shook his head. "I'll tell you anything you like, just let me save Rey." 

But the General was shaking her head slowly: "You can't go back; you're in resistance custody now. It will look awful if you get back in that thing in front of all of these people. We need to get you to your cell."

His voice was low, darker than Rey had heard it in months: " _Rey needs to heal_."

"Can she heal herself?" The General asked and Ben's face faltered.

Rey said coughed and hissed up from the ground: "I'm not leaving him. I'll be fine -- a bit of bacta and I'll be good to go." She would have sounded more convincing if she hadn't gasped in pain midway through that sentence. She could feel the blood trickling down her back and her focus wavering. She looked up, and seeing the two remaining Organas above her made her woozily realize: General was _tiny_.

Rey felt something nudge her boot, then another. She craned her head down, seeing much closer than comfortable, the giant head of the lead ysalamari rubbing the side of its face against her foot. Then she heard what sounded like Jyndan Ingo's voice.

"General, they are only a few dozen meters from the extent of the ysalamiri's power. If the ysalamiri retreat to the other end of the compound, Mr Organa-Solo should be able to help Rey without departing resistance control.

There was a moment of consideration, then Rey felt Ben stand and felt someone lift her up, up into the air. She sneezed as Chewie's pelt tried to matte itself across her face while he strode quickly to the wall surrounding the compound. She glanced over and saw Ben's worried eyes:

"Some welcome party," she muttered, and a smile split his face, transforming it. She heard a chuff of surprise and looked further down, seeing the General staring in bald amazement at her son before glancing up at Rey.

She schooled her features before turning to Ben before saying quietly: "You changed your hair."

He glanced at her, and quirked a smile sad smile: "You too." 

With Chewie between her and the rest of her group, blocking the view from the mansion, the General slipped an arm around her son's waist, pressing her face to his shoulder for a brief moment before letting go. 

His face was raw, open when she strode ahead shouting for the guards to open the gate and let them out. She stood just on the other side of the stone battlement, waving them forward. As the sunlight touched their heads on the other side of the wall, Ben closed his eyes, inhaling long and deep and then Rey felt it too, her connection to the Force growing and building until it was full and complete again.

Chewie asked if he needed to put Rey down, but Ben shook his head.  He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Rey's: "I've got this."

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing intermixed, the sound of the low winds moving through the gates of the compound, the approaching bootsteps of the rest of the welcome phalanx.

Then Rey felt trickles of cooling light flowing through her, racing to numb the tearing, throbbing pain in her shoulder as she gasped in relief. The crater in her shoulder felt like it was filling with warm, bubbling water, like she alone was a tub deep in the Lehonian sand, full to the brim of pinging and twinging, tickling and racing up-and-down-up-and-down her arm and across her back sparks, sparks that roved and connected until she couldn't tell sensation from image from thought from hope. She felt Ben shudder and she reached out for him, hand going behind his neck, holding him closer to her, fingers in the thickest part of his hair, tracing and soothing and she felt the last great  _push_ of connection flow from him, and she could feel her shoulder again, strong and whole and good.

She murmured to Chewie and he slowly let her down, let her sag against Ben for the barest moment before she stood again.

"Thank you, Ben." She said, and he smiled, face looking drawn and grey.

"Anything for you, theesa," he murmured and that brought her a whole different kind of warmth. 

Then she stepped back, giving some distance between them, catching the General's watchful eye. They turned to face the approaching crowd as she slid her hand back between Ben's cuffs and his skin.

"Ready for this?"

His mouth tightened but he nodded. And, together, they marched back through the gates of the chateau and to his awaiting trial.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are life! Thank you to everyone who is sharing how much they enjoy this piece; I get so much out of hearing from everyone. You can find me at jocarthage on tumblr, if you want to say hi!
> 
> No new warnings for this chapter, but there is some name-calling and we do see the beginning of what happened to Ben on Nauticus, so regular warnings apply.
> 
> Can I just say how very much I enjoy this fandom? It has its problems, but there are so very many creative, generous, thoughtful, open-hearted people. I just enjoy the heck out of it.

Poe caught-up with Ben and Rey halfway up the drive, one of the ysalamir scrambling happily along beside him. The pilot's eyes were hard, shouldering past the other resistance generals in the welcome phalanx; the General had faded back, smoothing over concerns about the change in plans with quick, soft words.

"Rey, are you ok?"

Rey nodded; her shoulder was still tingling with the aftermath of Ben's healing, but the pain was gone. The battle braids Ben had woven into her hair were still tight; one point for Alderaanian fashion. Poe snagged her in a quick hug then got down to business:

"Rose radioed: the sniper is dead. Rose and Finn are up in the building, making sure she was working alone," he peered around Rey's shoulder, taking in the expanse of clean, unbroken skin under her charred tunic, before looking at Ben with a new respect.

"That's some good work, Ben. Remind me to tell you about the pain in my -- hey!" he said as Rey elbowed him, eyes narrowing.

"Fine, fine; I'll just keep using up our precious bacta supply, see if I don't." He grumbled. 

Then he sobered: "We're assuming the target was Ben; but Rey, keep an eye out. And," here he lowered his voice, glancing at the generals, "Now the rest of the resistance knows you're not a disinterested party, the next attack may target you."

Rey clenched her jaw and nodded, fingers tight around Ben's wrist, still playing the armed escort role. He was watching his black boots on the drive's pale gravel, trying to control his features, fingertips brushing hers as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Even without the Force, she could feel emotions twisting, roiling: fury at Rey being attacked, guilt that he was the intended target, drive to find the sniper, fear of the cell to come. She didn't want to give people who hated Ben more of a reason to doubt her loyalty, so she didn't nudge her shoulder against his, didn't wrap her arm around him; didn't touch him in all of the ways she'd spent weeks learning how to touch and be touched. It felt like a hole in her belly, a slice down the middle of her; a disconnection close to what it felt to be removed from the Force now they were back inside the compound walls.

They were nearly at the house: up close, it was massive, pink and rose with gilded window frames and a pale, nearly-white roof reflecting the evening light. There were low steps leading up to a massive double-door -- now filled with a squad of soldiers, every one of them with hands on their blasters. There was a big human male in front, nearly wider in the shoulders than even Ben. Rey didn't know him; she hadn't spent nearly as much time with the resistance as Poe or Rose. She glanced at Poe and saw his face was stiff, warm eyes narrowing. He slowed his pace and she matched him and Ben took his queues from her. The rest of the welcome party paused, flowing and bumping around them, eyes on the soldiers in the doorway.

Poe's voice was sharp when he called-out: "Sergeant Tansirch. I didn't know you were off blaster-cleaning detail."

The massive man smirked at Poe, slouch growing a little more exaggerated.

"You've missed a lot while you were off collecting seashells with a mass murderer, Captain."

"That's Commander Dameron to you, Sergeant." Poe said, voice snapping in a way Rey had never heard. "What're you doing here?"

Sergeant Tansirch's eyes dragged over to Ben, who was still looking at the ground, sliding up him in a way that made Rey ease in front of him, hands loose over her lightsaber.

"I'm the head of prison detail, here to take your boy to lockdown."

Poe's boots crunched in the white gravel as he widened his stance, settling his hand on his blaster as the other soldiers in the squad looked between Tansirch and Poe, backing away as much as they could without leaving the entryway.

"That's not going to work out." 

Then the General was tight at Poe's side, murmuring: "Is there a problem, Commander Dameron?"

He met her eyes, keeping Tansirch in his peripheral vision: "I request Sergeant Tansirch be moved to another detail."

"Request denied," and at Poe's sputter, "For now. We will have a staffing review after the briefing tomorrow morning. Tonight," and she looked at the squad of soldiers, Rey hearing echo's of her battlefield shout in her quiet voice: "The prisoner will be treated with exactly the respect and dignity that you would treat me -- or you would wish to be treated yourselves. If I hear any different, you will be court martialed, do I make myself clear?"

The men, including Sergeant Tansirch, murmured assent. The General raised her voice:

"Do I make myself kriffing clear?" 

"Yes ma'am!" They chorused.

Tansirch finished after the rest, his eyes still too focused on Ben.

One of the other soldiers stepped forward, his hand going out for Ben's wrist, but Rey moved her shoulders in front of him.

"I'll take him down," she corrected, voice harsh, but Poe grabbed her elbow, voice urgent as he whispered in her ear.

"Don't undermine the General in front of them; something's off here, and if it looks like you don't trust her, things are going to get a lot harder for all of us."

She turned so they couldn't hear her, feeling Ben's attention on her as she hissed back, "It's not her I don't trust."

But Poe pulled back, looking her in the eye. She was about to argue when she heard Ben's low voice behind her back, and just the sound of it made something in her back unclench:

"Rey, let it go. I'll be fine." 

He took a deep breath and unhunched his shoulders, standing to his full height as his tunic swayed back behind him, leveling a considering look at the squad, some of whom took a half-step back. 

"If the General vouches for these soldiers, then that is good enough for me."

Rey nodded, fingers clenching empty air as she stepped away, letting the young soldier escort Ben away from her and into the house. She watched until he turned the corner. 

Poe clapped his hand on her shoulder before turning to the General: "Is someone going to show us our rooms? I've got some very important seashells to unpack."

\--

Dinner was -- well, Rey didn't have the words to describe the table their hosts had prepared: the salads, meats, breads, and sweets; so many sweets. The mansion held about 100 people, the heads of the intelligence and military departments of the resistance along with soldiers' families, and ample support for everyone present. The dining room could fit them all; it was almost to bursting. Dinner had clearly been in-session when they had arrived, as the top generals and commanders who'd been in the welcome phalanx filtered back to their seats and dug into half-eaten appetizers. Conversations rose and fell throughout the room, boisterous and wine-fueled and warm. Rey wondered when Ben was getting for dinner; he'd been too nervous to eat on the Falcon.

The General kept Rey beside her as they swept to the head of the long central table, the dishes on it blurring like stars in hyperdrive, silver and white and all lit with ornate candelabras. There was a card on the General's right with "Jedi Rey" on it, but the General quickly swapped it with Poe's on her left, gesturing for Rey to sit. Rey wondered why, until she saw how the other diners' eyes drifted up to the General and then down to Rey's shoulder, her tunic was still charred from the blaster hit, now clearly visible to the rest of the room.

Rey focused on her salad, wishing she could ask Ben about Alderaanian food etiquette, before the General brushed her hand against Rey's arm. She jerked but when she glanced over, she saw a small smile on the older woman's face, the quiet one, just like she'd seen for a moment when Ben had been cooking Breha's chicken and waffles recipe.

"May I?" She asked, voice quiet under the clink of cutlery, and Rey realized her hand was hovering, near the complex braids Ben had woven in the last hour of their journey.

"Yes, ma'am," she said around her fish appetizer, leaning forward so other woman could see how they criss-crossed across her crown. She heard a barely audible sigh and looked-up to see the General's face soft, wondering.

"Did he tell you what they meant?" She asked, voice low. 

Rey nodded: "It's a warrior's braid, from Alderaan's past, designed for efficiency, but with a twisting mechanism to it, to indicate the wearer was hopeful in battle, that she believes she would leave it wearing a crown. It's too complex for me to do myself, but," and here Rey trailed off, not sure if she should mention his name here. 

The General tilted her head, voice very soft: "My son always did have good hands."

And Rey bent again to her plate, hoping the low light of the candles hid the blush spreading across her cheeks.

The General's voice was hushed when she said: "I've got something to show you, after dinner. But right now," she as she stood tapping her glass as silence fell.

She looked around the room, taking every person in as they gave her their complete attention. Rey felt something flowing around her; not the Force; but something like it, something that tethered people together in a shared work, that let individual people with lives and hopes and fears dedicate themselves to a shared dream selflessly and completely, that let people fight and die for each other and for others. A different kind of connection than the Force, but perhaps, in moments like this, no less powerful.

"I want to welcome the Jedi Rey formally, though many of you know the Savior of Crait already." There was a cheer and Rey stood, nodding to those assembled, trying to approximate a Jedi-like tone of face.

The General continued: "Rey has come back to us and I hope we give her a better welcome than she received only an hour ago, when she was shot by an unknown person in a resistance uniform. The attack was thwarted by our own Rose Tico, who has also now rejoined us, along Finn, and of course, Commander Poe Dameron," and the roar after Poe's name made the General's smile flicker to a full-on grin as Rey joined in on the clapping, with Rose and Finn hooting their appreciation for a delightedly showboating Poe.

After Poe had taken his third or fourth bow, the General lowered her hands, bringing quiet to the room.

"As those of you on the jury know, these four have been away, helping remove my son from captivity among the Chriss." 

Rey could have heard a droid turn on its cooling-fan, the room was so quiet.

The General's voice was still even, face set in stubborn lines: "What happened to him there will become general knowledge, so I won't speak of it here. Likewise, his crimes are well-known and have been hard-felt by the people here. You have questions: about why he is here, about why these heroes were sent on that particular mission, when things looked so dire, before our recent victories recast the war in a brighter light." There was a murmuring, an agreement and she raised her voice over it: "Ask these four your questions and they will tell you what they saw, what they believe about him; unless you're on the jury. Then you can ask him yourself."

"A few weeks in the sun cannot erase 10 years of genocide," came a cutting voice from the opposite end of the room. Rey craned her neck to see who was speaking. A tall, dark-skinned man in a shiny orange cape stood from the other end of the table, continuing: 

"Nor can they erase the killing of younglings, nor, ma'am, the murder of your husband, Kylo Ren's own father. Though you've tied the trials together, attempted to deny the accused Chriss of adequate representation, we cannot excuse this." The long table was full of heads turning, trying to see the man speaking, looking back for the General's reaction.

"Patricide," he was still speaking, voice rising sharply, "cannot be forgotten. Even if it would be convenient to have another Force-user on our side. Kylo Ren tried to kill the last Jedi -- the savior of Crait -- on the _Supremacy_."

Rey heard her voice ring out and could not remember decided to speak: "Ben Solo killed Supreme Leader Snoke to save my life."

There was a moment of stunned silence before the room erupted into chaos. People were shouting questions; men were shaking their fists at her, at the man at the end of the table; droids were fluttering in the confusion. Poe moved closer to the General, shoulders loose, hands free; Rey did the same. The General watched as the table argued amongst themselves. The man at the end of the table could see the tide turning against them and raised his arms for attention:

"Kylo Ren killed Han Solo. Do you deny that?" He demanded, eyes on Rey, voice sharp through the room.

Rey took a breath: "I saw it with my own eyes. He did."

She saw the General flinch in her peripheral vision, felt her gesture to interrupt, so she rushed to continue: "And he distracted Snoke long enough for Admiral Holdo to destroy the _Supremacy_ , the crown-jewel of the First Order, allowing the resistance to escape." She raised her hand as the other man tried to break-in and the murmuring of the people around him kept him quiet as she finished: 

"What he did, why he did it -- those are matters for the trial. I am new to this beautiful place, to this family. Before this year, I lived my whole life in places controlled by chaos and violence. I know that the resistance believes in justice, that we all fight for equal rights for all planets. And I was told there would be a fair trial. Isn't that the right place to sort-out gossip from reality, the things everyone here thinks they know about Ben Solo -- and what the truth is?" The table was murmuring in her favor, heads bobbing, and when the General put her hand on Rey's arm, letting Rey ease back, body thrumming with the energy it took to hold that many people's attentions, to shove-aside the fray and move people to a better way.

"Rey is right," the General said. "We will hear all of these facts and more at the trial. It continues tomorrow. So eat-up, drink-up; tomorrow the testimony begins. Thank you to those seeking justice on the jury and may the Force be with us all."

And with that, she sat down and everyone went back to their plates, the sound of the room quieter now, more sedate, more focused. Rey saw the man at the end of the table turn, cape swirling, and stride, men seated with him scraping their chairs back across the marble to follow.

Rey leaned over to the General, speaking as quietly as she could.

"Who was that?"

The General sighed and put down her fork before rubbing her hand over her eyes.

"That, Rey, was Lando Calrissian."

\--

Dessert was white berries in deep-red cake; Rey could barely taste it. 

She wanted to see if Ben was alright. With everyone filtering back to their rooms, she could do it now, quietly, discretely. 

She started up and the General caught her elbow:

"I have an idea of where you might be headed -- I can show you a quicker way." 

They pushed back from the table together, sliding out a side door, and Rey nearly stumbled over one of the smaller ysalamiri, which chirruped at her irritatedly; it had been hiding on the other side of the door, looking into the dining room. Rey thought it might have been the same one that had nudged her foot after she'd been shot. 

Rey knelt down, saying:  "Did they not give you enough lettuce?" 

The lizard shook its large head, projecting an image of the white-berry cake and a feeling of curiosity. Rey glanced to the General and slipped back inside, snagging Poe's untouched plate right from under his nose as he teased Rose about her deadly aim and where else she could demonstrate expert markswomanship.

Rey returned with the plate, lowering it for the big animal, which snarfed it up faster than even Rey could eat. Plate clean and returned to the waitstaff, they set out and Rey kept her hand on her lightsaber. Out of the public area, most of the chateau was made of great, rough-hewn blocks of dark grey stone. From what Rey had read about Delaya's past, decades ago when it had been Alderaan's agricultural and manufacturing base with a long history of territorial conflicts. This glimmering building was, in reality, a fortress.

They turned and wound through corridors short and long, down one set of stairs, and then another as the crowds thinned and then, they were alone, lights in the corridor humming on at their approaches. Rey thanked a childhood spent crawling around Star Destroyers for her sense of direction in the dark as she laid each corridor in her mental map of this place. They came to a hallway filled with iron-bound wooden doors, each with its own keypad. There was no one else in the hall. The General pulled an ornate key with a thumbprint pad across the bow and unlocked the door. The General grabbed her elbow and pulled her into the dark room, apologizing to the ysalamir before closing the door and flicking on the low electric lights.

Rey had learned to read from the backs of manuals, the shapes of the letters taking form in her mind long after the shapes of the parts that ran the monsterous-big ships that supplied her daily living. Her education stuttered when her parents left, her literacy barely basic, until one day she broke the seal on the nursery of one of the great dead giants in the ship fields of Jakku. There she'd found a tutor-book, still flickering with life. Rey spent much of the next rainy season grinding her way along on quarter rations and filling the unpassable, monsoon days with the lessons on the tablet. On Lehon, she'd loved the few, quiet days she'd spent with the books she and Ben had bought together on the trading outpost, their half-dozen volumes seeming to contain an impossible number of stories and ideas.

But this -- this was a heaven she'd never dreamt of.

The General tugged her along between the towering, arcing shelves, a lightness in her step Rey recognized, dragging the younger woman into the middle of the room as tall as the chateau itself. 

"Wow." Rey said as the General braced her hip on a dark leather chair tucked-up against one of the sturdy cases.

"'Wow' is right, Rey." She replied with a smile. 

She looked-up up at the tightly-packed, every-color books held in their arching cases by the lightest of energy fields, gesturing:  "This is every book that the survivors of the Alderaanian catastrophe could pull together on our history." 

She turned,tunic moving gracefully around her hips as she traced a steady finger down the spines of the volumes. 

"After, what happened happened, the older survivors sat down and wrote down everything they remembered of their lives as children, their children and grandchildren who'd survived, writing what they'd seen." 

She pointed: "I wrote a dozen of these, trying to record the  _truth_ about Alderaan after the Empire's lies, everything I remembered about Breha, about Bail, about growing-up as a child of Alderaan. More than any other place in the galaxy, this place is is left of my first home. Our stories," she brushed a spine that Rey recognized --  _Tales As Old As Time_ , with the same gold-faced type, wedged in what looked like an entire bookshelf of Alderaanian fairytales.

"Our stories are here, Rey; I believe stories are the heart of our culture, what has kept us going, what will keep us going through this war and the next, until we find a build peace based on equal rights and dignity. Our stories are a form of memory, a kind of ever-living vengeance and undying life. If we can remember what we were, nothing -- no Death Star, no book-burning First Order -- can stop us. We cannot be killed. Just as Jedi live in the Force, we can live-on in our stories."

Rey was frozen, thinking of how much she wished she could trade places with Ben, just for a moment, just so he could see  _this_ , look forward to  _this_ , this connection, this evidence of what can be survived. She felt an overwhelming feeling of loss and of home, all mixed-up together.

"I know this isn't your world, Rey. But in my experience of the world, little of who we are comes from our blood and just a bit from how we were raised; who we are is mostly found in those we choose to surround ourselves with." 

A hint of desperation crept into the General's voice: "I don't know if Ben remembers any of the little things I did pass on. It was hard, it hurt so much to lose so many, and in the middle of a war there's no time to mourn. But I know I didn't tell Ben enough about Alderaan. I think, by the time I lost him, he believed that he only came from hurt, from slavery, from pain and war."

She took a breath, bracing her hands on either side of her hips. "Alderaan had been peaceful; it always seemed so, so far away. This is the first time I've been allowed back on Deyala. For a generation, those who ruled here believed the only way to preserve what scraps we had left was to bow to whatever power seemed most likely to annihilate us, to become what we'd hated. It's only now that we have the chance to open up, to be better."

She looked up at the towering cases, eyes sad. "Maybe it's too late to change who he thinks of as his family, as his origins. Maybe these are stories of a dead world, of a past that has no bearing on the future, no value for him --"

And Rey couldn't stand it, the General thinking that, believing that, and it was all images and no words -- Ben cuddled around his Alderaan history books; Ben fighting with his memories of Vader's justifications for the planet's destruction; the heart in Ben's voice when he read her the tale of  _Anima and Amor_. 

Images, images, images -- but no words. So Rey pulled her hands down through her hair, pulling it out of the braids and making a new one, the one Ben always seemed to be putting her hair into, the one for someone who is in love with a man of Alderaan. 

The General watched as Rey's fingers stumbled, stumbled -- but kept going, recollecting the scattered strands, until there two tightly intertwining braids tracing across her crown. She stepped forward once, twice, three times until Rey was finished, until she was as close to Rey as she had ever been. Everything in her looked like she wanted to reach out, to touch, and Rey leaned down, turning a little, so the General could see the braids running across her crown. Into the hushed silence between them the General's fingers danced over the braid and into the beat of silence she said wonderingly:

"You love him," her voice soft and sad and so, so hopeful. Then something in the General's face, her entire demeanor seemed to shift, like cracking under the ice of a great planet:

"I thought I was the only one left who did."

She lowered herself into the leather chair, hands going over her face as she struggled to breathe. Rey knelt beside her and the words came, like lightning, like hope in a dark cell:

"He remembers everything you taught him, General. Everything. I think he wants to be Alderaanian, he wants to be the kind of man who can be in this room and know he comes from the stories in it. I don't think he's lost, not now, maybe not ever again; I think he's found home."

The general choked back a sound and Rey saw a sheen pride in her eyes, watched as the shape of her face shifted and shifted, trying to contain the worst of the transformation that knowledge was bringing her.

"This room is _for_ him." She said, voice hovering in the stillness of the library of a dead-but-still-fighting people. "For the children of Alderaan who never saw its green and gliding shores.  I know he can't be here now, but I think -- if you could read some of this, and tell him about it, I think -- he can be here, once he's free. I don't care if he wants to fight for us, though I would take his abilities any day of the week and twice on Zhellday, but if all my son wanted to do was sit here and study and learn about our people, I would take that. I would take that." An other harsh breath. 

"I would take any version of him that is alive and well and repentant and _free_."

They sat together for a long moment, the books breathing around them. Then Rey leaned back on her heels and said what she'd been thinking: "And, not to disagree General, I don't think we're the only ones who love Ben, General. I know Chewbacca does too." And the General choked out a laugh that sounded like she was dislodging a shard of something hard, something poisonous from her heart.

She chuckled: "How Chewbacca can forgive Ben and Lando cannot, I'll never understand," and Rey was brought back to this moment with a snag. Before she could ask about the fight above in the dining hall, about what they were going to do about it, the General clapped her hands.

"This room uses a traditional lock with a biometic connector; I will have you added to the system by tomorrow evening." She stood and offered Rey her hand; Rey took it and stood carefully under her own power, not putting any pressure on the older woman's wrist. The General noticed and gave her a wry look before nudging her towards the door: "I understand you lived a solitary existence for much of your life. You've dedicated yourself to my son's rescue. But you need time and space to yourself. Whether you read or not, think of this place as yours or not, I hope you take refuge here." She sighed, voice getting tired. "As you have probably gathered, your energy and attention will be a much sought-after commodity now that you're back."

The two women walked out of the library, the General carefully closing the door behind them. She pointed down the hallway, giving Rey the last of her directions, and headed upstairs. Rey trotted off and the ysalamir trailed behind her, thick talons _tick-tick-ticking_ on stone.

Rey came to a grey-stone corridor, the damp feel of the air told Rey they were now below the water table; in spite of that, it was well-lit and matched the General's description. Ben's cell would be around the corner. 

Rey heard a man hiss, words too quiet for her to hear. She pressed herself against the wall and motioned the ysalamir back, sensing she didn't want to be seen; not yet anyway. She padded closer:

"No one is going to come for you -- you're totally alone," it was Sergeant Tansirch's voice, his voice a growl. She heard rustling and jangling, like a key being drawn from a pocket and hurled herself around the corner on silent feet, ysalamir right behind her. The guard was at least twice her size, but Ben was still cuffed inside the cell, a cut above his eyebrow, standing with his feet braced and his face set for pain -- to receive and to give it out.

She heard Ben say: "I'm not alone," before she was planting her foot in the back of Tansirch's shin with a yell and yanking his shoulders back over his center of gravity. As he fell, she flung herself on top of him, knees going deep into his diaphragm, forcing all the air from his lungs. She slid back and jammed her knee so far up his groin she felt it hit his pelvis and as his face turned a wide range of resistance-flag colors before she flipped him on his stomach, unwrapping one of her arm wraps with her teeth to string his hands together as he began to cuss:

"I'll kill you, Sith-fucker, after I fucking kill him; I'll fucking kill you and kriffing Dameron and -- "

Over his caterwauling, Rey said in a conversational tone: "He's right, you know," twisting her knee in deeper: "He's not alone. And neither am I."

The ysalamir had made very little sound when she moved for so such a large creature, but Rey thought the click of its talons on the stone floor in front of Tansirch's purpling face was ominous enough.

"Did you get all of that?" Rey asked and the great creature nodded, then ducked her head down to the sputtering guard's eye-level and very carefully opened her mouth, displaying a wide array of massive, razor-sharp teeth. The creature glanced up at Ben, its shoulders bunched up and then it roared in the man's face as he frantically squirmed and wriggled away from. Rey's hands were stone on his wrists.

"Let's see what your comrades think of what she just saw. Need any help getting him upstairs?" Rey asked, jerking the keys out of the man's limp grasp. The great creature wobbled her head from side to side in a reference to a no before gripping her teeth around the back of the man's collar and dragging back down the corridor and the stairs they'd just come down.

Rey watched the lizard haul the moaning man for a few more seconds, before looking around. There were no other prisoners in this section; the guards from Nauticus were somewhere else in the compound. She turned to Ben. His eyes were a little wide, but he was beginning to grin.

"Good timing," he said, and she smiled, stepping close to the bars.

"Did you eat?" She asked and he nodded.

"The others in the squad locked me in one of the rooms up above with someone to watch, got me food as they finished clearing out the cell." He made a face, not moving any closer. "In addition to being a shitty guard, Tansirch wasn't good at finishing tasks on time, so the cell apparently wasn't prepped. I only got here a few minutes ago."

Rey nodded, stomach tight at the sight of him behind bars. She shuffled the keys around in her hands, looking for the one to the cell, muttering:  "It'll be easier to get the cuffs off if I just come in there -- " 

But then Ben backed away, shaking his head. Rey froze, uncertainty clouding her mind. Had something changed? Had she -- and he interrupted her swirling thoughts, seeing them move across her face even though he could not longer feel her emotions:

"We need to keep your reputation as strong as we can, that's what Jyndan told me before we arrived. That means keeping you from appearing too attached to me. And you being in my cell, particularly if any of his buddies come back; well, there are better looks you could have." He said, voice heavy but sure. Rey understood, though she hated it. Once he saw she was stopping, he relaxed back and moved towards her again. She noticed now there was a high privacy screen that must have been covering a cot and a small 'fresher behind him. 

She quirked him a smile: "I _am_ attached to you, you moof-milker." She sighed and then nodded. "At least let me take those cuffs off you," she said and Ben stepped forward, hands going to hers so the lock was pressed between the bars.

Rey made quick work of it, cuffs dropping with a sharp sound on the floor.

Ben's hands stayed close pressed to the bars and hearing no one else coming, Rey reached through, threading her fingers into his. He sighed, pressing his forehead to the bars, and she did the same, skin barely touching, sharing air and aligning their breathing.

"How is your shoulder?" He asked, eyes searching hers. 

She rolled it, pale skin still visible through her ruined tunic. "Good as new, thanks to you."

He hummed in disagreement: "It's thanks to me you got shot in the first plac;, kriff Rey, I was so --"

And Rey heard the sound of someone talking at the top of the stairs, and she interrupted, needing to share good news in the seconds they had left:  "I saw a library," she said, voice low, and his eyes flicked across her face, all weariness dropping away. She spoke quickly:

"Your mother showed me. It's every book left on Alderaan's history. I can go in whenever I want. Tell me what you want to know, I'll bring you something from it, every night until the trial is done. Anything, theesa."

His grin was incredible, lighting-up his whole face. But then he winced as the cut above his eye moved; Rey reached out to touch it and he catted into her palm before taking a breath and stepping back, the sound of many boots getting nearer. 

"I would love that. And I love you." He said, as Tansirch's indignant squad came around the corner, led by the ysalamir.

\--

On the ysalamir's suggestion -- shown through images of her big purple self sitting squarely in front of the cell with a bath-sized tub of water and a heap of fresh lettuce added to a feeling of request -- she was assigned to guard his cell with a resistance soldier. The other soldiers were disgusted with Tansirch, one of them running, nearly sprinting back upstairs to get a bacta patch for Ben's face. They said Tansirch had pretended not to have the key to Ben's cuffs and had sent them on a wild Hoth-snipe hunt to find it. Tansirch was now in-custody and Poe would be convening a court martial in the morning, _before_ the staffing discussion. As Rey listened, out of the corner of her eye she saw that Ben's face was closed-off, stern, controlled. She hated that expression, knowing he was shaken but couldn't show it, knowing there was no comfort to be had while he was in that cell.

Rey was trying to figure out how to suggest she take the first shift guarding Ben's cell, when he gave her a quiet headshake. Right; pretending she was a neutral party. She thanked the guards and with a final look, headed upstairs to her assigned room, alone.

\--

Rey fell into sleep and opened her eyes to the warm morning sunlight of an open-roofed atrium with a briskly-flowing stream in its center flowing down to the courtyard beyond. She could smell roses and grapes, could feel the shade of the villa behind her.

"Am I Anima or Amor?" She murmured as she stood. She felt a tug under her heart and hurried  inside the villa, barely glancing-up at the arcing mosaic, urgency rising as she pushed through the darkened corridors, past doors and curtains, over ragged-edged carpets and rough-stone walls until she came to the door, iron and black, covered in figures.

Rey didn't have a candle or a knife forged from her own fire, but she had her two good hands, and she _shoved_ at the heavy door, throwing her body into the motion, throwing her dream walking connection to the Force, forcing it open. It was dark, but she could hear him rustling on the bed, in the thick sheets.

She stepped forward, feeling her way to the wide, low bed. Once her shins bumped into it, she whispered: "Ben, I'm here."

And she was flying forward, his hands around her waist, her hands gripping him tight as he twisted so he was over her, bare powerful thighs on either side of her hips, broad body bent over, and his smell was  _everywhere_ and his face was in the crook of her neck, his wild hair loose  and she wrapped her arms around him and said:

"Kriff, I missed you."

He was breathing harshly over her, trying to control his pulse, not settling until she ran her fingers up his bare spine and down again, up and down. He rolled away and to the side, and she tucked herself into his side, head on the scar she'd left with his lightsaber in the forest on Starkiller, reaching out for his hand.

Into the darkness, he said: "Think this is the ysalamiri again?"

Rey nodded: "They seem to have taken a liking to you."

He huffed and said: "I don't think they like cages, whether they're in them or not."

Rey nodded and  took a breath and said: "I have something that might help."

"Hmm?" He said, lips in her hair, the air between them warming by inches and by degrees.

"Come on," she said, rolling off the bed and standing, reaching blindly for his shoulder.

He said: "Ah, Rey." An uncomfortable pause while she reached, hand close but still not touching and Ben didn't move any closer. "I'm not sure I should go into the light."

Rey felt her eyes widen.

"Why not?" She asked. There was a mutter of sound, like skin on silk, and he replied:

"I'm don't seem to have any clothes on."

For the second time this night, Rey was glad of shadows for hiding her furious blush.

She thought hard for a moment and then her arms were full of his grey tunic and pants. She handed them to him and said: "I'll -- I'll wait outside."

And she turned and slipped through the door, trying to cool her racing pulse. If they were going to be connecting every night through dreams again, she hoped they wouldn't always start with Ben _naked_ in a big soft  _bed_ , because it was going to be a trial on her self-control -- and his.

He joined her a moment later, eye catching on the figures on the door, face going bright with recognition -- "Are we --?"

And she nodded, slipping her fingers through his. 

"Come see." She said and pulled him through the rest of Amor's villa.

He stopped stone-still, head all the way back as he stared long and hard at the mosaics. But she had a hint of why the ysalamiri had led them to this place, what they thought Ben needed from it. She tugged his hand and he went, following her out into the courtyard, eyes going to the endless horizon over the low-rolling hills, the forever-sky arcing above.

His body went loose, tension flowing into the rich earth between one breath and the next.

"Oh," he said. She nodded.

"You're free." She said, turning around.  "Here, for now, you're free. What do you want to do first?"

He began to gather his hair back and she imagined a hair-tie around her wrist, giving it to him. He nodded towards the forest, thick, dark and deep, and they went.

They spent the morning running and walking, climbing trees, and picking berries; once his hand found hers, it never left. Rey knew before they woke-up she would need to tell him about General Calrissian, about what it might mean; but she wanted to give him a few quiet hours first to steady him for the trial the next day.

When Rey decided she could not wait any longer, they wereback at the edge of the vineyard, Ben's eyes drinking-in the humped-over thickly-fruited vines:

"Maybe this is what Anima felt like, the first time she realized this place would keep her safe."

Rey nodded before Ben tugged them over to a vine drooping with round red grapes, bright under their dusty sheen, plucking off a handful and giving her the best. 

She squatted beside him and made herself say: "Jyndan will probably tell you tomorrow, but I think I know who the former resistance General who's been moving so hard against you is."

Ben's voice was light, but she knew he was listening intently: "Who?"

Rey closed her eyes and then opened them, turning to face him squarely: "Lando Calrissian."

And Ben froze, turning to face her before falling back to sit in the dirt. His voice was flat, numb when he asked : "Why?"

Rey sat across from him, trying to keep her voice steady: "I think it's about Han." 

Lando had said a lot of things during his speech, but the one that had rung the truest, the one that made the most sense for her, had been when he shouted about patricide.

Ben looked away from her, away from the vineyards and back towards the forest, breathing harshly, and Rey wished, for the thousandth time, that there was a way to get through this without pulling him apart, without him having to dig bare-handed through all of the broken parts of his being. Before he could spin too wildly off into his head, she said:

"That part of the trial isn't for a week at least. Tomorrow will be about Nauticus. I didn't know if I should tell you now, but I wanted you to have time to think. To prepare, in case he's in court. But if you can, focusing on tomorrow would probably be the best place to put your energy."

"He's right," Ben said and Rey leaned forward, trying to catch his eyes. They were lost, looking out over the vineyards: "I killed him. He's right to want me dead."

Rey shook her head, heart crunching in her chest, constricting with what she was about to ask: "You make it sound cold. Was it just as cold? Were you certain? Because I was there, Ben. I saw you -- you were going to come with him, with us."

He nodded, dark head bent, saying: "I'd -- I'd been ordered, Snoke had put it on me, this compulsion to kill him. He'd raised me to know you're supposed to kill what you love, to show selflessness by sacrifice; it was to be my final test. But when it came, when I heard  _him_  calling me my old name, not the one Snoke gave to me, saw him walking to me, I heard myself just keeping on trying to get him to leave, telling him his son was gone; but he just kept walking to me. And," his big hand came up over his face, covering his mouth, Rey seeing the scene from her perspective high on the ledge and his down on the catwalk:

"He just kept walking to me. I told him I wanted to be free of my pain, the pain Snoke had told me was bringing me my power, my connection to the Force, driving me to this, this final moment, this final sacrifice. Rey," and his voice broke on her name and she wanted to wrap him up, away from this, but didn't know if he wanted to be touched, if it would help or hurt. The bright light of the day made every strand stand out starkly on his light tunic as he whispered: "I heard myself  _trying._  I was trying to break free, to stop him walking to me. He told me he would do anything to help me, and he put his hands out, and I knew I was going to give him the lightsaber, and then Snoke was roaring down in my head, and I was resisting Rey, I was _so close_ to being out. Then --"

And then Rey remembered: "And then the light went dark." He nodded.

"I had my lightsaber out, his hand was on it, and the sun went out and it was just," he made an aborted gesture, "Snoke was screaming in my head, that he was distracting me, an enemy general come to keep me from my duty, from what I had sworn and sacrificed for him, and I _believed him_ , oh kriff, Rey, I _believed_ him." 

He took a gasping breath : " I believed the pain would end, and somehow thought that Han knew that and wanted that for me and -- I was so mixed up, so fucking broken. It was such a tiny part of me that decided.  It was in position and it was so little, so simple, to bring it to life and to take his. And there was a moment, an utterly free moment, where I was convinced I'd done it, I'd played my part properly, I was the monster, I was who I was destined to be."

Rey's eyes burned and over the low wind humming through the vines, she barely heard's Ben's voice, cracked and small: "And then I met his eyes and I wasn't; not even then, not to him. His hand on my face, my blade in his guts, I was still his son. Even as he died; even as I killed him. Seeing that, it split me to the core." And his voice changed, disgust flowing through it like bile: "And I shoved him, I was so _angry_  that it hadn't worked, this act of selfishness, selflessness, that I had done this and nothing would take it back _and it had been the wrong path_. I knew it was as soon as I couldn't get off it again, just like in the throne room, just like on Crait. I just couldn't get out of it."

Rey covered her face with her arm, leaning into it, hoping the pressure would keep the shaking tears of the memory away. It didn't. She let out a sob, remembering how scared she'd been on Starkiller, how _furious_ , the pain she'd felt; after months of looking for Ben, trying to find him, trying to bring him back, she'd known she felt this, but didn't let it overwhelm her, didn't let it color everything. And then she remembered why, why she'd come for him, kept coming for him, kept walking towards him down that long corridor on Nauticus; would always come for him. She raised her tear-streaked face and said:

"It may have broken you, you may have been broken before, but breaking changed you." She said, voice foggy but firm: "It changed you, like our connection changed you, changed me; like you being on Nauticus changed you." She braced her hand on the rich earth and leaned forward, insistent: "Your father wanted you free, wanted you _home_. You were broken, crashed-up, but you thought you were whole, thought you were right; no room to mend, no raw edges to piece together with golden light. Who you were, what you believed about yourself, about Vader, couldn't let you go until you'd been cracked enough to let the light in, to let you take those broken pieces and remake them into something new, something better."

He shook his head: "How can this be better, with him dead."

Rey closed her eyes: "It's not. Sometimes we do monstrous things and we need to keep on living anyway because we lived and they didn't. Like you said before we went back to Nauticus, maybe now it's your job to keep others from doing what you did. To start making things right, even if you cannot help everyone you've hurt."

He nodded, another sob wracking through him, and then, head still down, he reached out his hand. She met him, fingertip to fingertip, palm to palm, crawling forward, wrapping her arms him. He breathed into her warmth, smelling the sun on her skin, the grapes and roses surrounding them. 

They stayed like that for a long time, until his tears dried, until they both felt the tug of morning on Deyala and turned to face the new day together.

\--

Rey awoke with a pressure behind her eyes, like she'd been crying in her sleep. She buried her face in the pillow, rolling the shoulder Ben had healed; still strong. She sighed and looked over the room she had been given. It was; lavender. The wallpaper was lavender with grey-silver columns and wandering white vines; tiny lavender blossoms marched in neat columns across the pillows; the curtains were lace stitched to look like layers and layers of lavender blooms; the carpet was blissfully unpatterned but was, in fact and in color, lavender. She didn't know if she'd ever seen so much purple in her life.

She went to the 'fresher, got dressed, trying not to think of what would come next. Then came the knock at her door:

"Rey?" came Finn's voice, "The trial starts in an hour, I wanted to make sure you ate."

She opened the door. He was wearing fresh clothes, hair fluffed-up and smile huge.

"Enjoying your suite?" She asked, and he nodded, voice serious with a twinkle in his eyes:

"It's sweet."

She swatted him on the shoulder. He jerked his head and said: "This way: I hear Alderaanian's love breakfast pastries."

The room had been reset to dozens of white whicker tables with a long buffet down one wall, absolutely overflowing with breakfast desserts. Over gooey tarts and crisp sweet apples, Rey heard all about their soaking tub, the view from their balcony --

"And the sheets Rey -- the sheets are _amazing_."

She nodded, glad her friend was happy, thinking of Ben in his cell downstairs and wondering what he'd been given for breakfast. She slipped an extra tart into a napkin and folded it in her pocket; she'd see if she could sneak it to him later.

If Finn noticed her scavenging, he didn't say anything. He leaned forward, voice suddenly unsure, and said: "I have something I have to tell you."

"Hmm?" she said, having been distracted by the kitchen staff bringing in what looked like tarts but with the white berries from the night before.

"It's about Ben's trial." He said and her attention snapped back.

Finn was looked at his plate, twisting his white napkin in his hands. "They've asked me to testify, the prosecution. Obviously, Jyndan has me on-call to testify if there are any questions about breaking Ben out, which I am happy to do. But the prosecution, I think they want me to talk about Tuanul."

Something dinged in Rey's mind, something Jyndan had said on Nauticus.

"When were you in Tuanul?" She asked, confused. Niima outpost was on the other side of the desert; no way Finn had walked it without water or cover after he and Poe had crash-landed. A droid could do it, sure; but not an untrained human.

Finn hunched his shoulders and said: "It was my first field assignment. I was pulled because they didn't have enough bodies and General Hux didn't want Kylo Ren to go on his own, didn't trust what he was trying to do." His voice got low and he glanced to either side before continuing.

"That's where Ben captured Poe, before he tortured him; you should have seen Poe that night Rey, so funny, so _brave_ ," and Rey smiled a little, wondering at the worry in his tone still thick in his voice. Finn looked at his plate and blurted out: "Ben told us to kill the villagers. He hadn't got what he needed, he didn't have BB-8, and he just -- he ordered us to slaughter civilians, Rey. I've been reading-up on war crimes, and that, right there, that was a war crime. I don't know what I should say," and before she could go any further, she said:

"You should tell Jyndan first, and make sure he can plan, and Finn: you should tell the truth." His eyes were wide, startled, and she continued: "Jyndan has a plan; he knows what Ben did and didn't do. That part of the trial isn't until next week at the earliest, so if you tell him today, that will give him time to prepare. Got it?" She asked and Finn nodded.

She patted his arm. "This was never going to be easy, on him or on us. Ben did some terrible things. But being here means he wants to go through the justice system; if he hadn't, if he'd run when he could have, he would be free, but he wouldn't be able to help us, wouldn't be able to fight the First Order."

Finn leaned forward: "He wants to fight them? You're sure?"  


Rey nodded: "That's what he told me. I don't know it'll work or how, but if he was beside us, with his knowledge, with his connection to the Force," 

Finn whistled softly:  "We could finish this thing."

Rey nodded.

Finn leaned his elbow on the table, "Did you know, when we first started-out for him, that this is where he'd end up?"

And she shook her head: "No. I still don't know if it will work. But, on the way to Nauticus, he said he'd decided he's not the center of the story, but he can't just pretend he can't help when he can. He really, really can. And I think it's rising for him that their vision, their way of dominating, isn't the kind of galaxy he wants to live in. He is willing to keep it from happening."

Finn's face was considering, but then there was a beep from his chronometer. 

"Time to head to the trial -- I'll show you the way?" 

Rey nodded, snagging another pastry to eat on the walk over.

\--

Rey had been prepared to sit in the back with Finn and the General, but as soon as she entered, Jyndan saw her and came up the central aisle between the rows of benches, shook her hand and said:

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better. I heard they didn't find anything to indicate who hired the would-be assassin, but I was glad to see young Rose is pushing the matter." He escorted her to the front-right bench, sitting her at the end. In a voice too low to be heard by those resistance soldiers milling around them: "If you would, sit here. The first day is often the worst and I think Ben could use the support." 

She nodded, trying to keep her face impassive; the jury could believe she was security against Ben; whatever they needed to believe to let her be here, right now. The doors swung open. Guards, then came Ben, soldiers on either side and the purple ysalamir leading the way, tail bannering high in the air. His wrists were chained again and Rey tried to keep her face blank at the sight. He looked around the room, seeing the packed benches, the jury with their notebooks; the General, Finn, Poe and Rose; and then his eyes went to her. Rey could see a shift in his jaw, the tiniest of nods.

His escort sat him beside her, attaching his chains to the bench beneath their feet. Rey wished for a long moment the ysalamiri weren't here, that she could talk to Ben silently, anything to keep that dawning dread from his face. The judge entered with the remaining ysalamir. 

There was a moment and then the rattle of a dozen chains and a large contingent of soldiers entered with -- Rey bit her tongue to keep from glowering. The guards from Nauticus shuffled with their eyes on their boots and were escorted to the far-left benc,. Rey felt Ben stiffen beside her and she ached to put her hand on his arm. She promised she would hold him tonight, if the ysalamir connected them again through their dreams.

The judge watched them as they were seated and then addressed the jury :

"This portion of the trial is focused on the treatment of Ben Organa-Solo by the guards on the Chriss prison planet Nauticus. You saw their faces and learned about the circumstances of his imprisonment in the past 2 days. You know that they are being tried in a resistance court at the request of the Chriss leadership. You will be sharing in the memories of the ysalamir who were present; it will feel much like day-dreaming. You will still be present here, but remembering in-concert with the ysalamiri. Everyone in the room will see what happened; the guards, the jury, the counselors, the audience. We will pause between incidents, or for those stretching more than an hour, in the middle of them. If there is an emergency, you will be able move freely, of course."

The judge nodded to himself: "The ysalamiri have agreed to avoid projecting the memories into the mind of Counselor Ingo's client, unless he so requests." Rey assumed Ben did not want to relive it and the judge seemed satisfied at his silence. He pounded his gavel: "Then we may begin."

Rey glanced at Ben and he met her eyes, face tight. Rey clenched her fists in her lap; she desperately, desperately didn't want to see this. She could feel the vision building around her, the ysalamiri's hum filling the warehouse courtroom. 

She closed her eyes fell into the vision. 

The perspective of the ysalamir settled into her mind -- lower to the ground than she was used to, yes; better taste, hearing that picked-up a wider range of sounds and vibrations than her human body was used to; the vision was slightly purple-hued, with a sharper sense of focus and softer edges around her peripheral vision.

The ysalamir whose memory they were sharing was hungry, waiting for his regular daily portions, observing the newly empty cell block with interest. There had been other prisoners there that morning, but everyone and everything had been cleared out for this new prisoner. The ysalamir could taste the hatred in scents of the guards, and their jagged excitement that left the great creature concerned; it smelled like the beginning of a dominance fight, when a younger male would try to rise in the ranks by challenging an older male, a fair-but-bloody tradition from deep in their history. It had been grandmothers and grandmothers and grandmothers since those fights led to the death in the ysalamir's society, elders choosing to submit or youngsters choosing to wait rather than risk losing one more bright light in their continuum of being; but the threat was always there, the ancestral scent of bloodshed on the tangled roots of their jungle-world's floor.

There -- the sound of the guards' boots in the hallway, rushing, clattering something with metal wheels between them. The clatter-clatter-clatter of a rust-stopped wheel echoed off the carved stone walls of the prison corridor. There, past the first gate, and now the second and -- there. The perspective shifted to the yslamir whose cage was at the corner before Ben's cell, the one Rey remembered lunging to get her attention. The creature saw a gurney. Ben was on it.

He was unconscious, wearing the same costume she'd seen him in when she left him on the throne room floor of the _Supremacy_. His body was strapped to the metal frame, crazy rattling wheel making him twist and jerk. His massive form was limp, whatever they'd they had put in his food at the coronation banquet still holding him under. He had been stripped of his weapons. 

There were six guards. Rey's entire body winced as the one pushing the gurney hunched over him and shoved, forcing the broken wheel over the rough stone of the hall, each push making Ben's snap back-and-forth. His brow creased like he was in pain, like he was struggling to get past the chemical restraints, to wake up, to defend himself. The ysalamir watched with a worried hum until he was out of her sight, then the vision shifted to the next in line. 

Getting closer to the door, the guard shoving the cart fumbled in his pocket for the key, slamming the gurney hard against the bars so that Ben's whole body jerked.

The ysalamir let out of a low growl; he didn't like the way they were treating this prisoner's body. It had smelled like a dominance fight, but even a dominance fight that ended in death still required two beings who could fight each other, never one free and one bound, one furious and one asleep. This would not be an honorable fight.

"Get it open, get it open, before he wakes up," one of the other Chriss guards hissed, and the one fumbling with the keys turned to sneer at him.

"If he wakes up, we get to kill the Sith bastard and call it self-defense; it'd be a lot simpler than keeping him alive until the money runs out."

There was a moment of silence from the other guards, and another of them reached out, shoved his hand into Ben's hair and  _gripped_ , twisting until he could see Ben's face as the ysalamir growled a warning.

"He's so ugly," he said, grimacing. 

Rey had tried to prepared herself to see Ben hurt, cut-on, beaten.  But somehow this, this small meanness in a vision of cruelty that was only going to get worse, was like a splinter in her heart. _No he's not_ , she wanted to shout. And once she heard that shout in her mind, all of the rest she'd been forcing down rose in her:  _leave him alone!_ She wanted to stand in this corridor, stand between these men and Ben's vulnerable, breakable body, to snap her rule on mind control, to hold up her hand and tell the men: _You want to stop here, to stop this before you start. You don't want to cause this pain, don't want to hurt another being like this -- you wanted to be better. Be better than I know you will._

The ysalamir felt some of the same rush of feeling as Rey did, but with it came a knowledge unique to their species but known to everyone who tells stories. The ysalamir thought: _do what you are going to do and I will watch and I will tell about it._

the guards had gotten the door open, but Ben's shoulders were too big to get him through the door on the gurney. The cell was just not built for a man his size. Rey's whole body flinched as one of the guards brought out a massive knife, and began sawing away at his restraints. She saw now they had been improvised from some kind of industrial tape; a rush job; maybe by the pilot of the ship that had taken him; maybe by those who had run the coup.

She could see it coming, the knife too close to his skin, wielded too sloppily, and when it slipped and came away bloody, when the ysalamir screamed in empathy, she could feel it with them -- the cut on his forearm, shallow but bleeding. The bluest-haired Chriss guard froze, looking down at the red, red blood, before his face-twisted in disgust. 

"These bastards can't even bleed the right color," the Chriss man said, then looked-up, looking from guard to guard, seeing if any would stop him, would tell him to knock it off. They were silent, staring as a little trickle of blood worked its way down Ben's arm, dripping over the edge of the gurney down to the stone below. 

One leaned forward and said: "No one is going to miss him. His own people gave him up; he has no other people."

"He _killed_ my sister's family and Jarek's aunt and uncle on Hosnia. He doesn't deserve to live," another of the guards said, voice venomous.

They cut him the rest of the way free, not injuring him again only by luck. It took two guards to wrestle his limp body off the gurney and toss him onto the thin pallet in the corner of the cell. The bluest-haired one kicked his legs on the way out; no one said to stop.

The guards left the cell, laughing and hauling the now-empty gurney. After a long moment, Ben started to move, rolling-over onto his side, hand going to his head. 

Rey winced; chemical restraints could leave a kriffing-awful headache. He jerked when his hand touched the mat he'd been left on, forcing his aching body to standing with the speed that could only have come to him with years of discipline. He raised his hands, gesturing to Force-rend the bars; nothing happened. He froze, jaw tightening. He slapped himself in the face, hard enough to force his head to the side, wincing with the pain he was hoping would bring him power. He raised his hands again; nothing. His breathing was kicking up, skin paling. He made the motion over and over and over again, and Rey realized: this might have been the first time, in his entire life, he had been disconnected from the Force, removed from his power.

He rushed the bars, trying to force them with his hands, wrapping his arms around them and pulling, wincing when his arm slipped and he looked down at the cut on his arm. His face closed-off and he knelt, ripping a part of his tunic to cover the wound. He didn't try even to heal himself.

The ysalamir whose mind they were in made a sound of sympathy and Ben looked-up, dark eyes considering: "Are you a prisoner here as well?" He asked, breath sounding rushed, but something in his tone was formal, almost courtly.

The lizard shook its head. Ben nodded slowly. "Can you speak, out-loud or," and he gestured to his temple.

The lizard shook its head again.

"But you understand me?"

A nod. Ben set his mouth, thinking.

"Is this a First Order prison?" A shake of the head.

"Resistance?" Another shake.

Ben worked his jaw and settled onto the floor, close to the bars so he was eye-level with the ysalamir: "I don't know which I would prefer; the resistance probably can't afford this right now. Have you been here long?"

The ysalamir nodded, glancing at its dank, nearly-bare cage, much too small for its large frame, shivering in disgust.

Ben's face became grim: "Any idea how to get out -- is anyone coming for you?"

Another shake of the head. Ben leaned his forehead against the bars, rolling back and forth as he thought. 

His voice was considering: "I'm glad. It sounds selfish, but I am glad you are here. Being hurt alone, it is so much worse than with someone else, even just someone to see. No one's coming for me either," he said, his voice grim.

The lizard made a querying noise and Ben huffed: "I'm not the kind of person people come back for." He twisted his mouth, knocking his head against the bars: "Except once. Someone I knew once, she put herself in danger for me, trusted me with her life." He took a deep breath. "It didn't work out for her. I don't think she's coming back, not after what I did."

The ysalami hummed and Ben turned, looking at the wall.

"Any idea what day it is?" he asked. 

The lizard shook its head.

"Let's start at the beginning, then." He said and scraped his thumb nail in a long white line in the corner of the wall, hidden by the corner of his bed.

Another querying sound and he replied, his voice softer, face turned away: "It's no mosaic; but it'll have to do." The ysalamir made the questioning sound again and he said softly: "I saw this, in her mind: a way of waiting, of counting in days when you can't count on people." He put his palm flat on the wall, pressing in against the rough stone, above the mark he'd made. His voice was nearly a whisper: "She always did though, in the end; she always counted on people, even counted on me, once; despite all evidence to the contrary and how often everyone she had ever known had betrayed her."

There was a howl of laughter from down the corridor: the guards were returning. Ben stood, quickly shaking out his arms, stretching his neck, face settling into a stubborn look that made Rey's heart clench with recognition: it was the face the General made last night, facing down Lando Calrissian.

"What's about to happen next, I didn't learn from her," he said quickly to the ysalamir, making fists and putting his back against the wall as the pack of guards sauntered down the hallway, nightsticks out: "I learned it a long time ago, on a planet called Lehon. You never let them get you on the ground, always strike first. You might want to look away."

The ysalamir didn't look away, but the vision ended before the first guards reached the cell. Rey gasped as she came out of it, face wet, throat raw. Ben's mouth was twisted and his eyes were fixed on his bound hands in his lap. Rey took a breath, and under the sound of everyone else coming out of the vision, Rey said:

"Any requests for what book I bring tonight?"

Ben's face was stiff, but there was a tiny spark in his eyes: "I think we should finish the trials of Anima and Amor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think! Any surprises, any scenes you loved? I'm going to try for weekend updates until this section is done, but your comments give me fuel, so please share!
> 
> Also, if there are any other greek mythology nerds out there, I'd love recommendations on your favorite Cupid and Psyche retellings. Most of mine end before the trial and I could use some source texts to jive off of.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This starts-up where we left off and includes some rough stuff happening to Ben; same tags as usual above, but we're seeing it happen in real-time. But justice is coming down like a river on the guards from Nauticus and it's happening this chapter, so if you want to skip to the first "--" you'll miss the scenes from Nauticus.
> 
> Just like in the last chapter, they are seeing what happened to Ben through the eyes of the ysalamiri. And Rey is not entirely healed from her own experiences of violence, so how she handles what she sees isn't always the best for her own mental health. I feel like I am vague-posting, but I don't want to spoil the flow of the narrative and there's nothing that isn't covered in the tags above, but, oh, I really really don't want anyone to get hurt by my words, as usual.
> 
> Ok, if you have sexual violence or abuse triggers and want to know more details about what happens here to see if it's safe for you to read, ping me on tumblr (I'm jocarthage dot tumblr dot com) and I will give you the low-down. 
> 
> For the lawyers in the reading group -- I know having one lawyer for a whole group has a major conflict of interest issue; but I also didn't want to write 13 separate trials, so let's assume the Republic had different standards for representation, eh?

The beating was brutal. Ben had stayed on his feet for a good ten minutes, before the shock stick had taken his knees out from under him. Then it was a matter of protecting himself best he could, kicks and punches falling in equal measure as the ysalamiri screamed their frustration and rage. Finally the dinner bell rang and the guards filtered out of Ben's cell, one by one. He lay there, breathing, for a long moment and Rey could not find it in herself to do the same. The ysalamir nearest him made an anxious, querying trill and Ben raised his hand, giving the same all-clear sign Rebel pilots did when they bailed out and their shoots popped, before collapsing back again. He'd gotten himself wedged into the corner, where it was inconvenient for them to go for his head or neck, and it took a long moment for him to lay himself out on the thin mattress. He rolled a face split with cuts and roughed-over with cell dirt to look at the ysalamiri.

"That was brave, shouting at them like that. I take it you weren't cheering them on?"

The ysalamir's sense of indignation flooded Rey's vision and the creature shook his head violently.

Ben coughed, spitting blood into the far corner and nodded. "I thought not."

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

"Do they feed you?"

The ysalamir nodded.

Ben forced himself to sitting, looking over at the sink and the primitive 'fresher.

"Alright." He said, holding his hand out in front of him. "Let's see what we can do about these."

And slowly, every motion painful, he began to wash the split knuckles, getting grit out of them. He called over his shoulder after a few minutes. "I suppose there's no hope of bacta?"

A shake of the head.

"I thought not." He went back to it.

There was the sound of a single guard, coming down the hallway. Ben hauled himself back to standing, back against the wall. The bluest-haired guard was shoving pellets of rations into each of the ysalamir's cages, letting some bounce back out and onto the unreachable floor. He had a tin of veg-meat under his arm and when he reached Ben's cell, he held it out. Ben stayed back. The guard shook it against the bars, sneering:

"Come here and beg for it, Sith Lord."

Ben stayed silent.

"Is the mass murderer too proud to ask nicely for his dinner?" The guard said. "I'll give it to someone who's going to be grateful."

And with that, he shoved Ben's ration into his pocket, turned around, and left.

Ben stayed standing until the echoes of his footsteps had long-since stopped, and then sagged to the floor.

He looked at the ysalamir.

"Can you tell if it's night?"

The ysalamir nodded.

Ben looked at the thin bed and began to try to arrange his large body on it.

"If I could ask you a favor, I would appreciate knowing when it is day and night. When the Supreme Leader, when -- when someone, someone I knew, my teacher, was training me, he'd make me stay awake for days, tell me it was hours; I've never gotten closer to losing my mind than that. Sleep is one of the few things even a darksider cannot be trained out of. And even nightmares bring their sense of connection, of resolution."

He closed his eyes, voice low as he said. 

"Do you know the story of  _Anima and Amor_?" The ysalamir gave a quaver that sounded like a no.

"Near the end, before the trials, she's lost; so, very, very lost. She walks from land to land, unable to live with what she's done, unable to find a home after she'd destroyed hers by believing lies and letting her fire burn the one she loved the most. But one night, she sleeps, and she remembers, the one who loved her and came for her, and in that dream, she begins a plan, a plan to get back to him."

He sighed.

"It's just a silly story anyway; my dreams have never brought me anything but pain. I don't expect to find anything different tonight."

He rolled onto his side, and after a moment, fell into sleep.

Rey came out of the vision, rubbing her eyes and wondering -- had that been the first night she had found Ben floating under the seas of Ahch-To?

The judge's voice was rising.

"We will now take a 5 minute bio break; the prisoners may request to use the facilities as well. We will reconvene with questions from jury."

Several of the guards were leaning towards their counsel and were then hurried to the 'fresher, looking ill. Rey bit her tongue to keep from saying anything.

Voice low, lips barely moving, she said: "Can I do anything to help?"

Ben shook his head, his arm close to hers but still not touching, not with dozens of resistance soldiers watching. He whispered:

"Tell me something distracting; I can't image the questions are going to be particularly sympathetic and I need something else to think about."

Rey muttered the first thing she thought of: "In my pocket, right now, is a jelly tart that I stole for you."

If they hadn't been in the middle of a trial, if they hadn't been surrounded by soldiers scanning Ben for any flaw, any more reason to hate him, Rey thought he would have laughed. As it was, he coughed a little, before whispering under the sound of conversation around them:

"You _scavenged_ a tart for me."

Rey felt a bit defensive, "It's gooey and delicious and I wasn't sure if they'd given you breakfast. I see  _now_ there's no way to give it to you, but --"

"It's the thought that carries the day," Ben whispered, a touch of lightness in his voice. Rey felt warm.

The judge rapped his gavel and turned to the defense.

"Where are you clients?"

The Chriss men who had gone to the 'fresher had still not returned. Their counsel shuffled his feet.

"They are, uh, taken ill. Your Honor."

Rey was not an expect on Mon Calamari body language, but if she were to guess, the judge's expression was deeply unamused.

"They will be in my court room in the next 2 minutes or you will be sentenced for contempt of court and will sleep in their cell block with them tonight counselor, do I make myself clear?"

The counsel paled and nodded, running towards the doors. The two guards were returned, staggering, a bucket held between them that from the expression of the audience, Rey surmised was not full of flower petals.

The judge narrowed his wide eyes and said:

"The prosecution's role is different in this case, as the evidence has already been presented in its entirety and without a need for framing. He will clarify what crime they are accused of and the jury may ask any questions they may have, keeping focused on the memories we have just reviewed. Is that clear?"

There was general nodding as the prosecution arose, and stepped over to a large piece of projection glass. He wrote the names of each of the guards along the top, and then a list of crimes down the side in tight, neat Basic. When he wrote  _Sexual Assault_ Rey felt a shock of cold work its way down her body, and she carefully began counting the wooden boards that made-up the wall behind the judge's head. As he wrote, the prosecutor spoke, his handwriting unbroken as the smooth flow of his words:

"Under the laws of the Republic, prisoners may not be abused, must be fed and provided medical attention. Leaving aside the lack of a fair trial, that Mr Organa-Solo was provided neither access to counsel, a fair trial, the ability to face his accusers, nor just sentencing before he was imprisoned, since those are outside of the purview of this portion of the case, we will focus on the behavior of the guards towards him on Nauticus."

The prosecutor began to check-off crimes -- physical abuse, verbal abuse, denial of medical care, denial of food -- next to the names of guards who Rey assumed had been the ones in the vision.

"Does anyone disagree that we just witnessed these crimes committed?"

There was dead silence from the jury. Rey looked at them fully for the first time and was startled to see some of them were crying. Not huge, dramatic sobs; they were soldiers and used to pain. But there were smaller signs: a hand over the eyes, shining eyes and gritted teeth. Finally, one of the larger men raised his hand.

"You've been through all of the memories, correct?"

"Yes." The prosecutor answered, and there was something in his voice, an inflection of pain that hadn't been present in his professional spiel.

The man cleared his throat. "Are they all like that; a half-dozen against a caged man, him fighting until he can't stand, then hurting him until they get bored?"

There was a sound of a sob at that, but it came from the other end of the room -- from the Chriss guards. The one with the bluest hair was doubled-over, hands muffling his sobs, body wracked with them. Rey couldn't find the pang of fellow-feeling she had expected to find for any other being in pain; perhaps it would come later, when Ben was not sitting stiff-as-a-board beside her, staring straight ahead.

The prosecutor answered: "Yes and no; in most of the other cases, Mr Organa-Solo was bound and on the ground before the beatings began in earnest."

The man blanched.

"I don't know if I can watch two months of that, Ben, I'm so sorry," one of the other jury members said, shuddering.

The judge tapped his gavel: "The jury will have an opportunity to question both the accused and the victim, but at this time, please direct your questions to the prosecutor."

He nodded, and the prosecutor said: "If there is no disputing these charges, I will cede the floor to the defense to answer your questions. You may direct them at the defendants but their counsel may step-in if need be."

One of the jury members raised her hand and the defense nodded face wary: "Were you ordered to abuse the prisoner?"

The guards each looked at each other. The judge leaned forward, saying, "You may address a particular defendant."

"You, then," the juror said, pointing to the guard with the bluest-hair, still hiccuping into his hand. "Were you ordered to abuse the prisoner?"

He shook his head.

Her voice was sharp when she said: "Then why did you do it?"

He shook his head again before leaning over his knees and rocking back and forth. There was a long silence as the juror stared at him. The defense, looking pained, squatted down beside him and whispered something hurriedly. He moaned something back, and the defense stood quickly, brushing the fine cloth over his knees before he said:

"My client wishes to say he is a good man and this was one mistake."

Jyndan Ingo was up like a flare, voice drifting over the courtroom like a whip sails through the air before snapping around a nerf's legs: "Was the one mistake beating the prisoner until he could not stand or denying him food, or the dozens of other abuses we will be witnessing in the coming days?"

The defendant moaned again and grabbed for the bucket, emptying his stomach into it with an awful sound.

The defense counsel said nothing.

The judge turned to Jyndan Ingo and said: "Let the record show that the accused did not respond and that in the first vision alone, was witnessed committing several acts which may be judged crimes." He turned to the jury. "If that is all?" No one raised else their hands. "You may now ask questions of the victim, with the knowledge that he did not share in this vision and may not have a perfect memory of every incident that occurred in the Nauticus prison."

One of the jurors was biting his lip and raised his hand. "Ben -- Mr Organa-Solo, I guess. What did you mean, you weren't 'the kind of person people came back for'?"

Ben turned to face him, eyes serious. He said: "That was one of the things Snoke told us, told all of us who survived Yavin IV, that we weren't the kind that people would come back for, that's why no one came to the Praxeum from the colony, from any of the other bases, until the First Order ships showed up. That's why Luke never answered when we called-out using the Force, after our communications systems were dead."

The man glanced at the judge, but continued: "I know we'll talk about the Praxeum when this portion of the trial is over, so I won't ask about it now, but the Jedi Rey said that you'd killed Snoke; why did you still believe what he'd told you?"

Ben closed his eyes, shifting his jaw, and Rey tried to send every kind of calm she knew how to him through no other power than her own emotions.

"When you let someone get into you like that, in so deep you can't tell their thoughts from your own, you can't see what they say is real and what is real, it takes -- it takes a lot, to be able to see the truth again. Like spending 2 months cut-off from the Force, like having to survive constant beatings on nothing but hope. But this was less than two days since I'd -- I'd killed him, since I'd used Luke's lightsaber to cut him in half on his throne, and I was still reeling from it, not really sure it had happened or just been one of his tests." Ben's voice got quiet. "It would be a few weeks until I could hear myself think, for the first time in years it felt like."

The man nodded, not like he'd understood Ben, but like he'd heard him.

Another juror raised her hand, glancing down at her notebook. "What did you mean, when you said 'someone had come' for you but 'wouldn't be coming again'?"

Ben admirably did not glance at Rey.

He said: "The Force connected Rey and I after Star Killer, I believe to try to pull me away from the dark, to provide greater balance; in sort-of shared visions. Snoke took credit for them, but I believe now that was a lie, I believe now it was the Force. Those connections led Rey to believe I could be turned and she risked her life to try to get me away from Snoke." He shook his head. "But I was not ready. I could not see a world outside of the one I had known since I was 15, not even with her trying everything in her considerable power to show me. I fought her, tried to convince her to join me, and she rightly refused. I said some, unfortunate things, in the process."

"Was this before or after you decimated the resistance on Crait?" Another juror asked and then held up his hands. "I know, I know, that's a question for next week."

Ben nodded. "It was before. I can answer questions now -- " the judge's hand was on his gavel -- "But it seems we should wait. But you are right in the spirit of your question -- more than any words I spoke, what I did on Crait should have been enough to stop Rey from ever considering coming for me again. Which is why I said what I said, to answer the question. Because I didn't deserve to be saved."

There was a silence in the courtroom as Rey thought furiously of all of the things she was going to say to Ben, to tell him he  _did_ deserve to be saved, and to think of how many times she would have to say it until he  _believed_ it.

The judge rubbed his eyes and looked at the chrono on the wall. "If there are no other questions --"

The was one, a small woman with a complex braid around her head, who raised her arm quietly, eyes on Ben:

"What was the story, the one you mentioned to the ysalamiri?"

Ben paused, trying to remember, starting, "I'm sorry, I don't --"

And the woman leaned forward, voice intent: "The one with the trials?"

His face moved in recognition and he said slowly: "It's an old Alderaanian folk story, in a book given to me by my mother, given to her by Breha Organa. It's tells the story of -- "

The woman interrupted. "I know it well." And sat back, a newly thoughtful look on her face as she looked him over again.

"Unless there are further questions?" the judge asked. No one raised their hands. "The next incident took-place the next morning and involves a different group of guards. We will review it, go through any questions, and break for lunch." He waved his hand, and the sense of the ysalamiri's vision rising around them took hold.

The lights and sounds were exactly the same in the prison. The lack of natural light was making Rey's skin crawl and she could tell the ysalamir whose vision they were in did not like it any better than she did; she never thought she'd miss the punishing rays of Jakku's sun, but anything was better than this senseless twilight. Ben was asleep on his mat, back against the wall, arm over his face against the always-on light, curled-in around himself. The ysalamiri began to hiss and smack their tails against the bars of their cages, and in the moment Rey could tell why: the morning shift were coming in, and they'd brought ropes.

But Ben was still sleeping. She remembered with a jerk that first night, where she'd caught him under the waves, pulled him up, and they'd started fighting, her imagining him with his lightsaber, her with hers, days before she'd finished repairing it. She'd fought and fought and fought him up and down across the cave, snarling and slashing at each other until she'd struck a blow and he'd disappeared for a few moments before reappearing, dazed, but fighting harder than ever. They'd fought until she woke up.

The guards wore riot masks this time and moved with hushed feet as the ysalamiri wailed and smashed their bodies against the bars. Ben didn't wake. His body moved, adjusting against the hard mat, but still in no position to fight back.

The guards undid the lock, moving inside the cell and shutting the door behind them. One knelt at Ben's feet, rope in his hands; another at his side, the other two standing with shock sticks out. Several more guarded the door from the outside.

The one at his head made a motion and they shocked Ben, body curling around the pain even as he awoke with a gasp as the guards at his feet wrapped the restraint tightly around his feet, the one at his side hooked an arm behind each of his elbows and began to wrap the rope around his wrists, his belly to the ground.

Ben punched down, knuckles splitting on the unfinished stone floor, but breaking the grip on his arms. He twisted his hips, flipping to a sitting position and headbutting the guard at his feet.

As the Chriss man staggered back, Ben kicked-out, taking the knee of one of the guards with the shock sticks with him -- but the other got his weapon in right under Ben's neck and his whole body convulsed, head hitting the wall and his eyes rolling-up into the back of his head. The Chriss at his side flipped him back over on his stomach, tied his hands securely, then checked his colleague with the broken nose and the other one with the shattered knee cap. He held out his hand and the uninjured guard handed over his shock stick. The man gripped his mask with his free hand and pulled it off. It was Captain Jerush.

"Get them to medical and tell the front office the prisoner attacked us as we tried to provide medical aid after his unfortunate fall during transfer. He is to be restrained when in the presence of staff from now on and gagged when possible."

The other guard nodded, going to the door and opening it before kneeling to help the kneecapped guard hobble out, the blue-blood-faced guard staggering behind. That guard held the door, waiting for Captain Jerush to exit as well, but the captain waved them on.

"Go on. I have a bone to pick with him about Hosnia Prime."

The other guard shrugged and shut the door, locking it and tossing the captain the key.

He knelt beside Ben's still body and reached out to prod him with the key. He didn't move, eyes still closed, body still limp.

"Sith Lord," he said, voice low and poisonous. "More like Sith bastard."

He turned to the shock stick and the ysalamiri growled, knowing that higher whine indicated it had been increased in output.

"Alright, Sith Lord, let's see what you can take."

And he shoved the shock stick against Ben's arm, the muscles jerking at the jolt of electricity. He stayed passed-out.

"Hmm," mused Jerush, adjusting the setting some more.

"How about this," he murmured, shoving the stick against Ben's thigh and holding it there until the cloth smoked. Ben stayed down. Rey wanted to run to the bars, to shake them, to make Ben wake-up, get up, fight back.

But as Jerush set-up to shock Ben again, Rey realized that the ysalamiri were no longer screaming. There was a dead silence in the hallway. She had stepped away from the main vision, down a side path that no one else in the courtroom knew to look for. The one whose memories she was in was still watching, but its focus was elsewhere; there was something like a low humming, a buzzing too deep to be heard by the human ear. It surrounded and enveloped her, and as her eyes continued to watch Jerush attack Ben's unconscious body, another part of her, the one that had always reached out for things she could not touch, years before she had known of the Force, began to reach out again. And now it was there, different than she'd ever felt it, but strong, somehow so, so strong, holding Ben in the dream where he could not be hurt by Jerush, thrumming through the air, filtering through every atom and every molecule in the cell around them, in the block, in the entire prison, was a tether, a tie, a string. And it sung like the sound of her heartbeat under the waves on Ahch-To, like the sound of Ben's heart in his chest:  _alive and here, alive and here, alive and here_. If she kept running her fingers along that thread of connection for long enough, she suddenly knew what she would find at the other end: a scavenger curled-up on herself in a resistance barracks, hands tight around her stomach as she desperately tried to sleep, dreaming of a man she would one day save.

Rey opened her eyes, body shaking, hands gripping tight to her knees so she wouldn't wrap them around Ben and not let go. Her head was down, and she was breathing in quick, hard gasps when she felt Ben move beside her. He was trying to see her face without appearing to, eyes worried. When he saw her looking at him, he murmured:

"I'd eat that tart now if I were you; you look like you could use the sugar."

And Rey shook with something that might have been laughter; and might have been a sob. But she reached into her pocked and pulled-out the gooey tart, biting into it.

"Hmrph," she said and Ben murmured: "I'm sorry, I don't speak mouthful."

She whispered, seeing the last of the jury coming out of the vision, eyes wide and bright, "I  _said_ , that's a good idea, theesa."

And Ben colored a little before taking a breath and looking up, perhaps counting the ceiling tiles. Rey gulped down the rest of the tart, trying to keep her movements stealthy, feeling the sweet, sweet rush of sugar running through her veins and raising her mood along with it. The crash would come, but for now, she was back and bright.

The prosecution updated the chart under the names of the guards; now every one of them had at least one check, and some had several. "Are there any points of disagreement about the charges witnessed?"

Silence.

The judge leaned forward. "You may address your questions to the defense."

One of the jurors raised a hand: "Why isn't the man with the shock stick here?"

The defense counsel's eyes lit-up. "Captain Jerush was murdered in cold blood by the Jedi Rey," he said, his voice trying to blend gleeful and somber in a way that just came across as false.

The reaction of the jury wasn't uniform. One woman gasped; another muttered something that might have been _good riddance to space trash_. The judge glared and nodded to the prosecutor.

He checked his notes and said: "The Jedi Rey is not on trial, but yes, we do have witness testimony of this moment."

The judge checked his chrono and said: "This is acceptable, if it is the final piece of evidence for this session."

Jyndan stood, eyes bright: "Your honor, I believe it will be."

"Alright then, request our guests show the day of Mr Organa-Solo's departure from Nauticus."

And Rey was pulled back into the memory, but this time, from the perspective of the ysalamiri. She saw herself, Finn, and Chewie creeping down the corridor; felt the great creature shy away from the blaster shots. Saw her stalking forward, lightsaber at her side, walking towards Ben.

It was not like she could have forgotten his gaunt face, his rags, his lacerated hands, his split cheek and black eyes; it's not like she could forget Jerush's hand gripped in his hair, twisting, keeping him off-balance. She heard her own voice:

“I don’t want to hurt any of you. I am here for Ben Solo.”

And she saw herself walk to him, and keep walking, holding his eyes. She felt a twinge of disgust as she saw herself kneel before the cell doors, seeing the faces of the large guards surrounding her; but it had seemed like the only way to teach the guards what it meant when a Jedi came: not violence, but justice.

At the time, she had felt so alone. Surrounded by guards, hand outstretched to a man she'd only gotten to know in dreams, whose real character she hoped for but had not had a chance to see, on a remote world, with friends she loved but who had not known her one name-day ago.

She knew now she had been surrounded by allies: Sergeant Barda had been tapped by the General's diplomatic network to see verify what was happening to Ben and empowered by the Chriss leadership to stop it; the ysalamiri had been creating and holding those dreams for them; and Ben, Ben most of all, who had overwhelmed every expectation she could have placed on him there in that cell, in his warmth and generosity and funniness and love. She looked at herself and wanted to whisper,  _you are not alone; so much better is to come_ as she watched herself stare through the prison bar doors into Ben's desperate eyes.

The turn came; Barda entered the cell, Rey after him. Jerush attacked, she defended, leaving his body in pieces on the rough stone floor. She saw herself embrace Ben and it was recognition like a cool river running through an atrium that the game was up on her pretending to be neutral. Even if everything else -- her dropping everything to go and get him, her kneeling before the guards, her killing to protect him -- could be generously attributed to Jedi loyalty and dedication, the way his hands went across her shoulders, holding her like she was the fragile one, the way she arms went around his battered torso, like he was all she had wanted in that moment and she wasn't going to let him go; the jury would have had to have never lived in love to think it was anything else.

Still in the vision, watching herself support Ben down the hallway, Rey closed those few centimeters, that careful, awful space between their shoulders, pressing the long line of her shoulder against his. She felt him startle and pause, then return the pressure. She kept her hands in her lap, kept her eyes closed and her mind in the vision, but her body felt right for the first time since they'd landed on Deyala, the touch of him flowing through her in tingles and in waves and in the sure, solid knowledge that he was  _alive and here, alive and here, alive and here_.

The vision continued and she saw from the ysalamiri's perspective what the moment of their freedom felt like as she dragged her lightsaber across their cages. Elation and relief and the satisfaction that they had bet right, that their liberty was wrapped-up in Ben's, and freeing another could bring them freedom as well.

And then the vision ended as they waded into the hip-high sea water and the ysalamiri swum off in the other direction.

For the briefest moment, Rey tilted her head to the side, resting it on Ben's shoulder, feeling the braids in her hair move, just a little. They were the ones she'd showed the General the night before, the ones for a woman who loves a man of Alderaan. Then she sat-up straight up. Neither of them spoke as the jury murmured, staring straight ahead, so when the first question came for the prosecution, it was a surprise:

"Rey, that was two weeks ago? Kriff you did a good job patching him up."

Rey turned to look, and it was the big man, the one who had asked if all of the memories were like the first ones.

She looked him in the eye and said: "It was about two and a half weeks ago now, and I would thank you, but Ben did all of the hard work himself. I just healed him and gave him space to recover."

The man looked like he did not believe her, but didn't press.

A woman spoke up: "I know Rey's not on trial, but is there anything to indicate that wasn't self defense? It sure didn't look like what the defense called it, 'murder' in 'cold blood.'"

The prosecutor glanced at the defense; it was not a friendly look.

"You are correct, her conduct is not at issue here and you are also correct, if it was, it would appear she acted in self defense -- or in the defense of someone who was bound at her feet and in that moment unable to defend himself."

The woman nodded her understanding.

The judge raised his voice: "I believe that vision should explain why Captain Jerush is not on trial here, in spite of his witnessed behavior, as well as why Sergeant Barda is not on trial here, as there is nothing in the witness testimony to indicate he participated in any brutality and everything to suggest he was instrumental in stopping it." A man on the jury raised his hand and the judge nodded.

"My question is for the defense. Who told you Rey was coming?"

The men huddled around their counsel who turned to say: "As Jerush mentioned, they had been tipped-off since Naka-Daka. A resistance asset who assisted in Jedi Rey's mission and had access to regular updates on Mr Organa-Solo's health revealed their mission to Captain Jerush."

The prosecution spoke-up: "I believe he has since been removed from our intelligence community."

The judge nodded.

"Are there any further questions?"

"In the vision there was -- it's hard to explain it, since they, the ysalamiri don't use words, but when Rey freed them, there was this feeling of -- self-satisfaction? I didn't understand that. Do either of you know what that was about?"

This time it was Jyndan Ingo who answered:

"The ysalamiri are often used to deny Force-users access to the Force, but they themselves have a deep and complex connection with it. They live within a telepathic network that connects every living member of their species, can remember perfectly any place an ysalamir has ever lived, for the entire history of their species. They see the Force as another dimension, like time or space, on that can be moulded and crossed and shaped as easily as you or I would mould clay. But they are habitual potters and sculptors, constantly using the force to bridge divides, to fill-in broken places -- like you said, when they do not use words, it is hard to explain. But to answer your question, the ysalamiri trapped and used for their powers on Nauticus decided to help Mr Organa-Solo when they realized that he was being hurt, and would keep being hurt, until they stopped it. So they found the connection to Rey that Mr Organa-Solo mentioned before and re-moulded it so they could communicate in dreams. It took many dreams for them both to realize they were true and real, as they have mentioned that they parted on the  _Supremacy_ without any trust remaining between them. But the ysalamiri are nothing if not patient, and eventually, Rey became convinced Ben was in need of her help, and she set-out with the General's blessing to secure his release."

The same jury member looked at Rey and asked:

"When did you know, when did you decide to trust him?"

And Rey nodded, trying to pull her words into an answer that was true and that wouldn't hurt Ben. "I don't -- I don't trust all at once; I don't know if anybody does. There's people I trust not to attack me when I am awake but who I would not trust if I were asleep; not in this room, I'm talking about the planet where I grew up. I don't know if, at the moment I stepped into that cell, I trusted Ben, in the way I think you mean. I didn't really know him; who we are when we're in pain, when we're in prison, it's such a tiny piece of who we are when we're safe and whole and free. I haven't known him when he's free, yet. When he was with the First Order, he was tightly controlled by Supreme Leader Snoke -- which I know is a topic for next week, so I will let it sit there. When I met with him in dreams, on the planet Luke trained me on, he was imprisoned by the Chriss. When he was healing on Lehon, I was responsible for helping sure he was healthy enough for this trial and as much as I wished he could feel free there, in reality, without money or a ship or allies, there's only so free he could be. And now, he's sleeping in a cell in the bottom of the mansion we're all enjoying, so he isn't free now either." She paused, glancing at Ben, who was looking at her with clear eyes. "But I would like to. I want to get to know who he is when he is free. And to your question -- I don't need to trust someone to know it's not right for them to be beaten and burnt and cut-on and tortured. I know it's wrong; it was wrong when it happened to me and it was wrong when it happened to Ben." She paused again, looking back to the jury. "I hope that helps." And she stopped talking.

The courtroom was silent, only the sound of the wind tapping the windows against their loosely-fitted frames filling the airy space.

The judge cleared his throat and said: "It is past when we should be breaking for lunch. The prisoners will be removed to their respective holding areas for their meals, and I will see everyone else in the main dining room. We will reconvene at 13:30."

\--

Rey sat down at the table closest to the buffet line: veggies, carbohydras and, of course, sweets laid out on the side, sunlight streaming through the massive broad-pained windows looking out over a portion of the rose garden. Poe, Finn, and Rose were off doing something Rose promised she would "Tell you about later, we just need to be sure, ok?"

Rey closed her eyes and let the chatter of those who had been in the courtroom filing-in beside those who had not surround her:

"I need to get some sun on my skin, I feel grimy after seeing him in that cell -- "

"I feel grimy being in the same room as him; I can't believe he's still breathing -- "

"Did you see the Jedi sitting next to him, sitting that close? What's that about; is she, like, his guard or something -- "

"I heard he healed her -- yeah, when that asshole shot at him yesterday, they hit her or something and he healed her -- "

"I thought Sith couldn't heal; that's weird -- "

"Did you hear they were on Lehon the past 2 weeks? Maybe I should kill some kids, get sentenced to a beach vacation -- "

"Do you think it's like the Jedi said, that what happened on Yavin IV was, wasn't what we thought -- "

"I can't _believe_ Lando yelled at the General. I mean, we all hate Kylo Ren, but he's also her kid, right, gotta show some respect to the princess -- "

"Did you catch her hair? It sounds silly, but I think it was in _Alderaanian_ braids. I thought she was from Jakku? Oh, you know, my second cousin is half-Alderaanian, I've seen the family pictures -- "

"Who do you think did it, shot the Jedi? Yeah, I know they didn't mean to, but that's what they _did._ What if they'd missed even worse and shot the General? This stuff with Lando, it's getting to be too much -- "

"I heard from Rose that Ben saved her from a rancor; they're all over Lehon, like an infestation or something. Super gross. But yeah, he like threw himself over her, was going to let the monster chomp on him but then saved her with his Force-woo-woo -- "

" _I_ heard that Poe Dameron used to babysit him -- what I wouldn't give for _those_ stories -- "

" _I_ heard from Finn that when they rescued him he was so hurt he could barely walk; yeah, I saw the video too, but it's different, hearing from someone who was there, right? It was awful. But he said that when Rey almost drowned and he dove down after her into the water, pulled her up like something out of a fairytale -- "

"I heard he'd going to turn traitor on the First Order if he survives the trial, going to fight on our side -- "

"I don't know about that -- once a turncoat, always a turncoat, that's what my old-man always taught me -- "

"But can you imagine _two_ Jedi on our side? Like, what if he can blow up Star Destroyers with _his mind_ \-- "

"My brother was on Hosnia Prime doing some import-export, I can't imagine the General could order us to work side-by-side with the man who ordered that attack -- "

"But _did_ he? Like the Jedi said, maybe what we know isn't actually what happened. If Ben Solo was so in-control, how'd he end-up in the Chriss prison getting six kinds of shit kicked out of him for 2 months -- "

"What about these ysalamiri -- kind of freaky, right? They're eyes, it's like they _know_ something -- "

"I think they're kind of cute, my Maisy, she's been coloring-in all of her lizards purple in her coloring-book -- "

"But how they share memories -- it's like it happened to _me_. I don't know, Jyna, it makes me feel akin to him, like we've gone through the same storms. Never thought I'd say that about Kylo Ren -- "

"And what's with that thing, calling him Ben Organa-Solo? A name a man kills under, he should be forced to stick with -- "

"Look, call him Darth Dick-Head, I don't care -- we all know he's Han's son and Chewie's nephew and Leia's son and Luke's nephew; that lawyer was a purple starfish-brain for bringing that up as his first argument -- "

"This isn't like any trial I've ever seen before; seeing what happened, it's kind of great, right, no guessing, no unreliable testimony, just the truth -- "

"Yeah, but what if they're not showing us the whole story -- "

"That's ridiculous. I fought and killed under the judge; he's as straight a shooter as you can imagine. No love for the First Order, nothing. He once put me in the brig for 6 hours for cheating at Sabaac; said soldiers needed to be able to trust each other, because if someone would cheat when the stakes are low, they're surely do it when they get high enough -- "

"I feel gross saying it, but did you see the size of his arms? He can recruit me to the darkside when ever he wants, kriff me -- "

Rey turned red at that last comment, darting her eyes to see a young man, no slouch in the arms-control department himself. The conversations sounded better than she could have hoped, some people finding doubt where they'd only had certainty in the rightness of their interpretation of events, more people finding sympathy in themselves than they would otherwise have found. If Ben's looks helped; well, she'd take it. And what she _hadn't_ heard gave her even more hope. No one rooting-on the guards, no one hissing about what a waste of time this trial was, how they should just space him and have done with it. 

She focused on her food. _Tomorrow_. Tomorrow she would make herself eat with someone, strike-up a conversation with a stranger and make a new friend. Or maybe Poe, Finn, _and_ Rose wouldn't all ditch her. She knew it wasn't like that at all; she knew they cared for her. They were just busy.

And anyway, she thought as she stabbed the bright-purple vegetables on her plate, she'd lived without lunch friends for her entire life. No need to go soft now.

Her shoulders unhunched as she finished her food, everyone settling down to sit with their friends.  After a moment, she heard someone behind her:

"I don't know if I can do this," the man said, light voice sounding shaky.

There was a sound of sympathy and ice clinking in glasses. _Ice_ Rey thought, glancing around. She hadn't seen ice but there it was in massive glass pitchers. If it wasn't missing friends for lunch that was making her soft, it was going to be the food. But, oh, what a way to go, Rey thought as she took a stab at the dessert, some kind of fluffy chocolate in a glass.

"It's just -- I hate him, right? He gave the order that killed my Aldric. I _hate_ Kylo Ren." Rey's spine and ribs felt like they'd become ice, like they'd just transfigured and she was going to have to live forever, frigid and melting.

The soldier continued: "But seeing what was done to him; nobody should have to go through that. And the guards, they keep saying what I'm thinking. And keep thinking, what if I were them? If I had a baton and he was held down, would I have laid into him too? I like to think not, but kriff, Jayne, what am I supposed to do?"

There was a pause as the sound of dozens of other soldiers milling about and choosing what to eat swept around them like tides around the great rock where Ben had read her the beginning of Anima and Amor's story.

Then someone else, perhaps Jayne, said: "You said the trial's in two parts, right?" A pause for a nod. "So, headsdown and focus: you're there to figure out if the guards violated Republic law on treatment of prisoners. If they did, each should get punished. Like the Jedi said last night, the resistance stands for justice and that's justice for them." Then a pause. "Then you'll think about what justice needs to happen to Ben Solo."

The man broke in, saying: "But last night, you heard what she said, what Rey said," and his voice got a little hushed and Rey strained to hear him: "That maybe we didn't know the whole story, about Crait, about Yavin IV; what if she's right? I've been hating Kylo -- Ben -- _him_ for nigh-on a decade; I wasn't looking to stop anytime soon. But if she was, if I was -- Jaynie, I remember him when he was little. And now, even with that wicked scar, he looks -- he looks -- " and the same woman's voice broke in:

"He looks like he's sorry, that's for sure. He looks like -- do you remember? No, you were too young. His Dad, Han, he was always going back and forth about whether he was in the resistance or not. I think they slapped the 'General' title on him just to make him stay put; not that it worked. Anyway, early on, he got caught-up in some bad dealings with the Hutts, got packed-up in Carbonite. And from one angle, yeah: he'd cheated them. He'd also ignored their slave-running, their brutality, their corruption, their violence, so he could make his deals and get his meals. And so yeah, it was Hutt justice he'd signed-up for and Hutt justice he got."

"But the General, and Luke. that wasn't good enough for them. They thought no matter how much Han screwed up, he didn't deserve to be locked-up in carbonite forever over it. So they broke him out, killed Jabba, killed a lot of his people who were on his crew, killed a kriffing sarlacc is what I heard; but anyway, Han came back from that, made it back to the rebels and he looked like -- like he'd been pulled out of a hell he'd earned. One he was ready to avoid every going back again."

There was a beat, then the same man's voice. "What I'm saying isn't that what Ben Solo did is the same as running guns and enslaved people and whatever else Han Solo got his mitts into for the Hutts. Han usually only killed people who were in his trade and who were going to start after him sooner rather than later. But he came back and we knew we needed him and the General loved him and he brought Lando and the Falcon -- and war is messy. Sometimes we take allies where we can find them, even if they did shitty things to get to us. And for what it's worth, Han Solo never would have _dreamed_ of sitting in a courtroom, letting us plebs decide his fate. Neither would the General. Neither would Luke. They would just have kept on doing their hero thing and expect us all to live with it. But Ben -- maybe this new generation of Solo-Skywalker-whatevers is finally getting the sense that the world works the same for them as everyone else. Letting himself be brought-in for justice like this, that's probably more impressive than any Jedi trick I've ever seen."

There was a humming sound of agreement, and Rey risked looking back. It was the big man on the jury, the one with the most questions, sitting with an older man she thought she recognized from the pilots Poe hung around with.

She finished scraping the chocolate out of her glass, and moved to stand. She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the small woman, the juror who'd asked about _Anima and Amor_. She was a bit shorter than Rey and from her height, she could see that the woman wore a variation on the same braids, these ones overlapping left-over-right on her crown, switching the genders of their object. Rey thought this style meant that she loved a woman of Alderaan.

"We can't discuss the trial." The woman said and Rey nodded, not sure what she wanted. She pressed her hand on Rey's shoulder and Rey sat down, looking-up at her questioningly. The woman's hand hovered over her hair, fingers light above her braids.

"I thought so." She said. "It's been so long since I've seen anyone else wear them, I wasn't sure in the courtroom. If you ever need to talk, have questions about the culture, the history, and you don't want to ask the ones you already know, we can get some caf and I'll tell you the old stories."

Rey's eyes were a little damp, but she nodded, voice not coming to her.

"I'm Raina," the woman said, and Rey stuck out her hand. Instead of shaking it palm-to-palm, the way Rey was used to, Raina slid her fingers up until they reached the thin skin of her inner-wrist and gripped there. 

"This is how we do it," she said, gripping Rey's forearm before releasing. Rey nodded.

"Thank you."

The woman moved away and Rey hurried from the room.

\--

At the end of that day's testimony, the chart of the guards' crimes was full of a dozen more check-marks, though none next to Sexual Abuse yet, which Rey was infinitely grateful for. Everyone in the courtroom looked haggard. As everyone was moving to get-up, Ben said: "I hate to postpone the ending, but I'm exhausted. Maybe we can do  _Anima and Amor_ later?"

Rey nodded and said:  "I'm going to be asleep, say, half an hour after dinner?"

Ben nodded and they were pulled apart by the crowd, Jyndan Ingo speaking quickly and quietly to Ben as they walked, the General lacing her arm through Rey's.

"Thank you," was all she said.

\--

Rey awoke in the atrium of Amor's villa and was running before she had her eyes entirely open. She huffed and panted her way down the corridor, slamming her shoulder into the door and feeling it _give_ , not before embedding the face of some lost-name Alderaanian god on her skin. Ben was thrashing in the bed, caught, motions wild, and she didn't think, she climbed-in beside him, lay on her side next to him, and said: "I'm here, I'm here."

He woke-up with a gasp, sitting straight up, and she felt his arm brush past her, like he was holding it out to defend himself. He took in a choking gasp, and then his hands were on his face, and he was holding his breath, like if he just kept it inside for a few more moments, it wouldn't leave him on a sob. He let it out, slow, slow, and then turned to her.

"Theesa, I could use some sun."

Rey nodded, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed -- but then she felt his broad arm loop around her waist, tucking her hips a little against him as he bent forward, face pressing between her shoulder blades. She was wearing her tunic and when she brushed her hand down his arm, she found he was wearing something strong and simple. She plucked at the fabric and he huffed into her shoulder, the closest she'd heard to a laugh from him since they'd landed on Deyala.

"I had a word with the ysalamir who guards my cage and mentioned how grateful I was for this connection and, in related news, that humans like to wear clothing." His face moved back-and-forth across her back like he was shaking his head, nose brushing across her spine: "She shared what I think were scenes from an ysalamiri mating ritual and I had to explain before the guards came back that I appreciated the thought but now was not the time."

Rey nodded, then paused: "Not for lack of wanting," she said, voice low, and Ben's grip tightened, a low hum coming from his chest.

His voice was rough, stretched tight with careful control, as he said: "No, not for lack of wanting."

Rey lay her arm over his, fingers intertwining with his in the darkness.

After a long moment, Ben moved back and Rey hopped off the bed, turning to help him navigate his way clear of the many silken sheets. She slipped her arm around his waist and together they moved towards the sunlight.

"What do you want to do today?"  


She asked, and Ben paused, considering.

"I was thinking," he said, and then paused, eyes caught again by the myths spread across the mosaic above their heads. Ben stopped, utterly still, and Rey could see, for just a flash, him being in this place, being really here, Anima coming to a quiet place after a lifetime of being isolated for what made her powerful, watched and courted by those who only wanted to use her to make themselves bigger. How peaceful it would have seemed to feel morning sun slid across your face with that kind of life.

Rey closed her eyes with him. The equatorial sun here was somehow broader and brighter than the high-latitude sun-language she was used to deciphering. There was none of the humidity of Takodona, none of the sand of Jakku, no smell of surf or the stuff that lives in it from Lehon. It felt like a place to plant things, not just survive them. It smelled: like a full supply pack; a quiet morning when all the work for the day was already done; the touch of someone who loved her; the hope of a new day. 

She felt a touch on the back of her arm and let her eyes slowly open. Ben was standing in front of her and she didn't think about it, she moved her hand to his face, brushing her finger across her scar, slipping down his cheek and neck. She felt his pulse kick-up, breathing higher in his chest. She traced her thumb to the edge of his tunic and then laid her palm flat on his shoulder. When she looked up and caught his eyes, they were -- awed. Quiet. Hungry. Waiting. Ready.

His voice was so, so soft when he said: "The way you touch me, it's like I'm something precious, something that deserves to be kept safe." She nodded, eyes tracing the lines of his face, moving to each of the moles, before meeting his eyes again.

"I don't want you to ever feel any other way," she said, and he closed his eyes with a shudder.

"I don't like you seeing what happened," he said, voice even, "I hate the idea of it changing how you think of me -- maybe you think you know what happened, but seeing it, it's got to change what you think of me."

And she shook her head before biting her lips. "I won't watch if you don't want me to, but Ben: I know what happened to you. You know what's happened to me. Did dreamwalking in my nightmares, seeing my scars, make you think differently of me?"  


"No," he said firmly, "Never." He squared his shoulders: "But you're not about to be tried for war crimes, Rey. My trial is going to go places, ugly places, and oh, Rey, it's --" And he took a breath. "But, Force help me, I think I still want you there; I think you are helping. I just, I wish,"

And Rey nodded. "Me too. I wish they would decide enough is enough and just sentence them already."

Ben's mouth tightened. "I'm not sure I want to get to the part where I'm in their seats faster." 

And Rey nodded. "But I do think it's going your way, at least for this part. At lunch, most people seemed disgusted with their behavior. And the way the prosecution is handling it, building mark by mark evidence they broke the law; it's sure to be the death penalty for them, right?"

Ben paused, looking down at her. "I'm not sure that's the way it's going to go."

Rey shook her head: "The jury won't have any other choice."

Ben didn't reply, just pressed his forehead to hers, before stepping back, leading her outside. They spent the day wandering through the rose gardens, smelling the bright and deep smells of them together, and Ben telling her stories about the different breeds. When he had her convinced a tiny one that smelled like cinnamon was called the "daughter of sarlaccs" she realized he had been pulling her leg for hours and chased him back into the villa where they lay together in the shade and he told her the stories of the mosaics until they felt the pull of morning.

\--

The trial progressed. Each day the jury saw what had happened to him, each day the questions they asked him grew in sympathy and the questions they asked the defendants grew in outrage. Every day, Rey sat with Ben and every night, they walked through dreams together.

Then the day that she had been dreading came. The whole week, she had been watching that line on the board, Sexual Abuse, as it remained perfectly, blissfully blank. But she had been counting down the timeline, and this day's testimony was the day Ben had come to the cave with handprint bruises on his hips, that she'd healed him using the first healing she'd ever learned.

She was sick that morning, couldn't eat, could barely get water down. Finn sat worried beside her in the dining room. He and Rose and Poe had been focused on tracking down the assassin's employer along with their regular duties, but tried to be with her at meal times, always let her know they were there for her. She thought of going to the library, but the stained feeling on her hands made her not want to touch anyone or anything until she felt clean again.

She sat in the front, Ben beside her, and pressed her shoulder to his. His eyes were worried for her and his body tense. She didn't know what to say, have anything to say, but before the judge called everyone to order, Ben lowered his head and murmured: 

"This is going to suck."

And she hitched a tiny breath, the first real one she remembered taking all morning, and nodded. Sometimes the only way out is through.

\--

Rey awoke in the dark and suffocating heat of cave, slick sheets wrapping around her legs and arms caught in lush hangings, trying to get her bearings. She heard feet pounding in the hallway and fists ringing against an iron door -- she struggled to get a free breath, but it was _so hot_ and she couldn't, she was -- she closed her eyes, trying to center herself, but she knew this was wrong. She should be on the other side of the door.

"Rey!" Came the voice through the door. Ben. _Ben!_ she cried out through their bond, thrashing, unable to speak.

His voice was desperate, harsh: "How do I open it?"

She couldn't get the words out, trying to shove to him instead the feeling of pushing inside. He tried to pass calm to her, a reminder there was a sky outside with a cooling river, quiet under the trees and -- the door gave, and Ben Solo came stumbling into the room, face flushed and hands in front of him, like he'd been running at it.

"Rey?" he said, light-dazeled eyes scanning the pitch-dark room,

"Here," she croaked, and he was there, big knees coming up to her, hands going to her arms as she pushed her face against the cool fabric of his tunic.

"What's happening?" She asked and Ben ducked his head, rough cheek moving against hers and _oh_ , that that reminder he was in a real body that was _safe_ , they weren't all just fairytales and nightmares but real people who probably needed a shave. _Let's get out of here_ , she thought and he nodded, easing back from her on the bed, bare feet going to the stone floor, hands on her forearms, keeping her steady: 

"It's lower than you think," he told her as she rose from a crouch off of the bed and she flashed him a smile. She felt him flush through the bond as the flickering light from the hallway -- _torches?_ she wondered -- caught her. She was wearing, well; to be generous, it was probably appropriate for this climate and certainly for sleeping. It was, sort-of, a nightgown. She paused, took a breath, and when she opened her eyes again, she was inher tunic.

"I don't think the ysalamiri always get the nuances of sex and people's complicated feelings around it," she said and Ben let out a breath of relief.

"Yeah," he muttered and she coughed out a snort, following him into the hallway. It only got warmer the closer they got to the outside, but it was free air, moving in dips and flicks and breezes, enough movement to make her skin feel cool under the slick of sweat.

"You think if I show them what happened on the mountain on Lehon, they'll let us dream in practical clothes? Prove to them that we _have_ in fact noticed how good touching feels, thank you, but are holding off?" She wondered and Ben snorted, fingers slipping down her arm to wrap around her hand, settling into an easy rhythm as they walked.

"I'd bet they think you'd feel better, I'd feel better, with more skin-touching. They're still pretty iffy on the concept of clothes. They don't seem to get that sometimes, even people who want each other can not want to be touched in that way. Particularly after a day like today."

Rey nodded: "I don't think they think it's that complicated; we're waiting for the trial to be over and this is a space without the trial."

Ben agreed: "I'm not sure there's anyway we can explain that so they'll understand. And for what it's worth, I still think waiting the few weeks we have left is the right call. What you said, that first day, about freedom and power; I hated hearing it, but you're not wrong. And I think things will be better, between us, if we start on an equal footing." They'd reached the atrium, the first glimpse at perfectly clear blue sky. Rey closed her eyes and soaked it up, letting it drive the feeling of enclosure, of entrapment, from her pores, let the sunlight drill down through them to her very bones.

Through her closed eyelids the world was silky red, like a living, breathing embodiment of the sheets she'd awoken laid out on. She felt some of the pain, the remembered-fear, the anxiety and shame and anger fleeing, like she'd stepped out of the body that had lived through yesterday, lived through so much, and stepped into another one, one that was  _here_ , on Alderaan-that-was, fresh and clean and real. 

She took a breath and then stepped back into herself, scars and fears and pains and all, but feeling like she could see them all, laid out like parts. Some needed mending, some could be scrapped, but they were all hers, to do with as she pleased. She had choices now; they both did. The thought hovered at the edge of her mind that if she'd chosen to wake-up in that room under the hill behind the villa, Ben's back tucked-up against her, her body curling around his, her mouth tracing the bones of his spine or the delicate bones of his neck, that wouldn't have been -- it wouldn't have been so bad. But being trapped there, alone and suddenly was alarming, not arousing.

"So you think it's going to be like this, randomly wake-up in what lizards think are sexy situations?"

Ben choked then shook his head with a smirk.

"We can only hope." A pause. "Want to try the river today?" He asked and she nodded. They'd spent most of the prior days exploring the forests, the vineyards and the gardens. But the day was hot, the waking-day on Deyala had sapped her reserves of beauty and she ached to see something that flowed onwards, ever changing and impossibly clear. She slipped her arm around his waist walked down the path to the river.

The river was lazy and shallow, wide, well-worn stones paving its winding way down easy banks. Rey thought it must double its height in the winter from the shape of the banks, but as the sun and the heat told her, this was summer on Alderaan with low water to match. She reached the place where the ground became soft and pulled off her boots off as Ben did the same. She glanced over at him, considering, and pulled off everything except her breast-band and underwear, glancing behind herself to see a flash of pale skin as he removed his tunic and pants, down to just his shorts, acres and acres of pale, beauty-mark-dotted skin -- and then it was eyes-forward, stepping into the cool flow.

The rocks were slick with algae, but Rey balanced, pretending it was a shifting sandune or an unstable freighter she was scavenging. Arms out, fingers wiggling as she found her balance, she was looking down, tracing a flicker that might have been a fish or a shadow -- when her back lit-up with cold and she turned to glare at Ben, who was looking studiously upstream, the water dripping off his hands and his massive grin giving the game away. She turned, shoving both hands under the water and lobbing a double-palmful right at him. It fell short and she huffed, trying again. But this water flew nothing like sand, nothing like rocks. She glared at it and Ben moved forward, into her range.

He smiled at her this time, eyes gentler but still teasing and looking across the river. Slowly, so she could watch, he bent down, laying his arm parallel to the water and batted across it, skimming the tops of the ripples and getting a solid wave out of it.

She tried it, aimed at him of course, and got a something of a splash in; her second try was better. 

His grin threatened to split his face and he raised one hand, twisting it in the air and calling a column of water up, up, up, spinning and spouting 3 meters high and keeping its shape, as thick as Rey's arm, dancing over the top of the water towards her.

"You need a teacher," Ben said, face too serious to be serious: "Let me show you the ways of the Force."

And she dunked under the water, laughing so hard the water went up her nose. She rose up a moment later, bringing both arms up and levitated the first half-inch of water off every bit of the water for 30 meters in every direction, much to the consternation of the water-skeeters hovering taller than any skeeter had ever been and spinning anxiously. Rey raised the whole mass of water up to her eye-level, spinning holes around where they stood, and then laid it back down, the water-skeeters buzzing in insectoid discontent.

"Still good without a teacher," she said, grin as big as the sun.

He nodded and pulled his hands together, lowering the water-spout back into the flow and pulling something else up -- it was spinning, swirling, settling between his hands. She stepped closer, one step, and then another. In his hands he held a rose, made from the river water beside Amor's villa.

He moved towards her, careful steps on the unsteady rocks, and moved to put it in her hair, right over her ear. She could hear the water rushing and for a moment she saw herself through his eyes, laughing, bare, grinning, proud, _his_. And she smiled, trying to think of what she could craft to give him -- when he flicked his fingers and the rose splashed across her face, soaking her entirely.

With a shriek, she dove towards him, slipping on the algae but determined to get her vengeance. She tackled him, splashing him over and over until he laughingly retreated up the bank where her recently-acquired splashing technique was insufficient to catch him. 

Her ire quenched with water, she followed him up, moving to find a place to sun and let the water evaporate from her meager clothing. She imagined thick, comfy towels on the flattest place on the bank and there they were, pale with yellow roses curling-up around the edges.

Ben had reminded her of their boundaries and Rey was going to let him tell her what he wanted; she'd imagined big enough towels for them to lie separate, but placed them close enough together they could cuddle a little if the mood struck. She sat and then lay back, entire body cooling in the hot morning air. Unlike the sunshine on Jakku, there was no tingling, no hint that she'd burn if she stayed out in this light more than a few minutes. She sensed him overing over her, body held away, and then he settled beside her, letting his body ease back into the sun-warmed stones of the slow-sloping bank.

 "You're -- lighter than I expected," Rey heard herself say, and Ben paused, lolling his head towards her, "After the what we went through during the trial today." She stretched her arms over her head, "I was exhausted."

He nodded slowly. "It's like -- Snoke, Snoke had this training regimen he put me through for the first year after Lehon, after Yavin IV," his eyes were steady, but Rey could feel her heart clenching at what she thought was coming. "Every morning, every one of the survivors of Yavin IV would meet me in the training room and try to beat me. Sometimes it would be king of the hill, keeping going until I dropped, sometimes it would be round-robin, sometimes a group fight." He closed his eyes for a moment, seeing something on the backs of his eyelids she didn't want to reach inside to share, "It was a rare day I didn't end-up unconscious in the first hour, sometimes enough I didn't wake up until the next day; the scarring you saw, when you first got me out, in my head, along my spine, that's what Snoke wouldn't let anyone heal. Not everyone wanted to beat the kriff out of me, but most of them did, and as we got darker and darker, everyone lost their ability to heal, so it was the med droids or bacta."

She was barely breathing, wondering how this connected to the trial. He kept going: "The worse part was waking up, knowing what was coming; but once I was in the fight, it was like, I knew what was coming: incapacitate as many as possible as quickly as possible, then once I was down, protect my head and neck as much as I could. The thing I did to you on Takodona, freezing you, I learned that one as quickly as I could; I didn't like knocking others out, in case there was brain damage that the droids couldn't heal."

Rey felt her jaw begin to ache from how hard she was clenching her teeth. She worked her hand from under her towel and reached out blindly towards his arm, not wanting to turn her face away from the sun in case the movement made the tears fall. 

She had stories, stories he'd heard, stories he hadn't; she had scars, scars he'd seen, scars he hadn't; but this wasn't pain-racing and just, just knowing that once Ben had been 16 and ducking his head under his arms as his former friends tried to kill him, then had to wake up and do it the next day; it hurt to know that.

"Hey," Ben said, fingers gripping hers, "All I'm saying is -- for me, the waiting is always the worst. I know what is coming in the trial, since I lived through it. And I know what I can do about it. I can sit there. I can be truthful. I can wait until I am the one on the defense side, and the one fighting for my life. And I can do it with all of the dignity they thought they could strip away from me and that they never could. And like I said that first night, I'm not alone, not this time."

Rey nodded, biting her lips. 

"Come here," Ben said, and she rolled over onto his chest, burying her face in his sternum and taking long, deep breaths until she could hear the sound of the low water over the rocks, the hum of crickets and little speckled toads, the gentle crinkle of grass drying in the rising sun. And Ben's heartbeat: _alive and here, alive and here, alive and here._

\--

Rey awoke before the sun had risen and dressed quickly. Ben's story had given her an idea; sort-of.

She hurried down to the shared gym in the basement and was glad to see a range of other soldiers working on the equipment -- free weights, bags, an obstacle course, and -- _yes_. A wall of practice swords.

Rey moved over purposefully, feeling the men in the room looking at her, sizing her up; she didn't return their looks. They'd learn how she wanted to be treated by how she acted here and she was going to butch it up as much as possible in these first few minutes.

She moved over to the bench. She did a warm-up round with the bar, then put half her bodyweight onto it and began doing reps. After her first 2 sets, she felt everyone else's attention drift away from her; point made.

Warm-up done, she moved to the training area and began the pattern dance she'd done on Ahch-To. It was long minutes before she felt someone's eyes on her, and this time, they didn't waver.

He was a tall Twilek in comfortable work-out clothes, holding a staff about a fist higher than his head. Rey finished her pattern and paused, breathing a little harder than normal, looking him over. If his muscle arrangements were similar to humans', then she didn't expect him to be much of a grappler; but with that staff and his long arms, he could get most of his combat work done at a safe distance -- if he knew how to use it. She kept her eyes steady on him, waiting to hear how he'd break the the clink of weights in the room.

"I recognize that pattern," he said, voice light and melodious. Rey didn't know if she'd ever met a Twilek whose voice she _didn't_ find beautiful, but she still enjoyed it a little every time.

Rey nodded: "Luke taught it to me."

The Twilek nodded. "I was on Yavin IV, in the colony not the Praxeum but we'd all train together, before -- what happened, happened. It's been years since I had someone to remember those patterns with. Would you mind going over them with me?"

And Rey nodded, moving over to the rack of swords as the Twilek tentatively followed her, feet soft on the 2cm mats.

They went through the first patterns together, Rey correcting a grip here, a strike there. After an hour, he was sweating hard and she was smiling.

"Thank you for asking," she murmured, "I don't know a lot of people here. I'd like to. It's been a weird few months," and he burst out with a laugh like a ringing bell, sweet and carrying and drawing every eye in the roomback to them.

"Oh, Jedi, I can help you fix that."

And he did. Over the next hour, he found a way to introduce her to every company commander in the room, finding little things they each had in common; three of them asked to go through forms with her the next day, with another half-dozen looking intrigued by the idea. Rey only left when she saw she only had a half-hour to get cleaned-up before the next day of trial. Before she left, she clasped the Twilek's wrist tightly, saying:

"Thank you,"

And he nodded, his voice lower than it had been all morning. "Thank you, Jedi. You bring us hope. And, for all he's done, you brought us Ben back. There are those of us who grew up in the colony who remember him as a boy. And in war, haven't we all become things our child-selves were taught to hate? Forgiveness may be the only coin that matters now."

 --

It was the last day of the guards' trial. Everyone was there: Finn and Poe and Rose and Chewie and the General and her attache, the men and women from the dining room and the gym; the room was packed to bursting. The chart of the defendants' crimes was so full of check-marks the prosecutor had started a second and a third tally chart. They had seen the final beating, the guards coming for Ben when they knew Poe had landed.

Throughout the trial, the jury had pressed the guards, over and over and over again, trying to get to some justification, some reasoning they could understand for the 2 months of brutality they had been forced to witness. The closest to an explanation that had ever made any kind of sense, was from the one with bluest-hair, who'd said between his sobs:

"We were so _angry_ and it was _allowed_ \-- it's not like he was a person -- we didn't think anyone would ever know --"

But there was no over-arching reason, no philosophy, no endgame.

The jury voted guilty on all counts in minutes.

Then came the sentencing.

The prosecutor spoke: "The brutality and habitual nature of these crimes makes each of the defendants eligible for the most serious sentence in the Republic's books: the death penalty. It is up to you, the jury, to determine if that punishment is appropriate. It is in your hands." 

The big man the jury who'd asked the most questions raised his hand, and the judge nodded to him. He looked uncertain.

"My question is for Ben," he said, and the judge nodded:

"I'll allow it."

The man turned to Ben. His face had softened over the course of the trial; he could look Ben in the face without wincing now. As he spoke, there was something gentle in his voice, like he did not wish to cause pain, but needed to ask: "Ben, what do you want? In terms of their sentencing, I mean."

Ben Solo nodded, eyes going for the first time to each of the men on the defense side. He looked at them each and as Rey followed his gaze, seeing in their faces every punch they'd laid on an unconscious man, every stick swung, every belt unbuckled. He looked them all in the eye, and then turned to the jury.

"I want mercy." 

The courtroom breathed-in as a whole, like a living organism. The juror who'd asked the question gave voice to it:

"Why?"

Ben nodded, as if he were thinking the question through, though Rey could tell he had the answer. He was being a bit dramatic; she figured he'd earned it.

"I was, afraid, for a long time, in the prison. I fought, I hurt them, but they hurt me, much, much more. And they had a responsibility to protect; they failed against the hardest opponent any of us ever face, the darkness in ourselves."

"I've been told that the line between the light and the dark goes through every human heart. I have lived for long years only on the darkest parts of my own heart, as you will hear about tomorrow. I have had days, months, years even, where there was no light for me; but someone else saw a light in me. Saw hope and gave me some of hers when I had none of my own; hope not that I would be forgiven, because there are things all of us can do that cannot be forgiven, but that I would be given the chance to atone."

"That is what I want for these men. Mercy, their lives spared, and in return, a requirement they must find a way to atone, to learn to watch from a high-place the violence they now know is inside of them, to more carefully guard the line between good and evil in their hearts for the rest of their lives than they did for the 2 months they had me under their care."

"That work, that atonement, cannot be done in isolation, so I would ask if the people of Deyala have peaceful place, a place of healing and learning where they can contribute, can rebuild a peace for others in place of the peace they took from me. I remember from my mother's stories of Alderaan that there was this kind of tradition, in the Gacaca courts, of restorative justice. I do not need their wealth or time, because what they took from me can't be rebuilt like a farm or a ship; it is a debt that cannot be repaid in coin."

"But if they can work for a better world, to preserve a more peaceful tradition than the ones I followed for a decade, than the ones they followed on Nauticus; if there is a place here that could use these men's skills and will treat them well and fairly and help them learn to watch the place in their hearts where light and dark meet, I would ask the jury to show them mercy and sentence them to that place."

From the far back, Rey heard the General's soft voice as she said: "Oh. Oh, Ben."

And then there was a sound, like a spark jumping between wires; it repeated again, and again, and again, until it was everywhere, everywhere around them, growing and growing, and running, from hand to hand to clapping hand. Rey realized it was applause; the audience, the jury, the defendants; they were applauding.

The judge was slamming his gavel down for quiet, but the quiet did not come. Rey turned to Ben, looked him in the eye, began to clap as he looked around with wide eyes.

The sound of the room kept rising, rising, until it shifted, coalesced into a single rhythm, a single beat. The rhythm of the beat, a sound driven by the beating hearts of all these people sounded to Rey just like:  _alive and here, alive and here, alive and here, alive and here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are so amazing and so helpful; thank you all so much for reading and enjoying this work, even when things get tough for our love-birds. But the endgame is coming and I think you will all enjoy where it takes us. *insert what lizards think is sexy music*


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for everyone's wonderful, thoughtful, encouraging comments! This chapter was going to contain the whole of the trial, but I ended up having to split it for length. The second half should be up sometime tomorrow!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Nothing is going to be more graphic than what we've covered so far, but it will be upsetting because, you know, he did some pretty awful stuff. There's a mention of some of Snoke's manipulation of Ben which will read like grooming (what abusers do to kids before beginning to hurt them in other ways), but it doesn't get graphic. This is the part of the trial where Ben's war crimes are evaluated by the jury. But trials are about justice, not retribution, and Ben, Rey, Jyndan, and all of the rest of his friends are going to make sure he has the best case made for him. 
> 
> Also, if the trial is extra technical, apologies; I spent hours attending Federal Court on Friday in support of 10 men who had been detained by ICE months ago and who, last week and under cover of darkness, ICE forced to move 1000+ miles away from their families, homes, and (most significantly for this motion) their lawyers. Writing in the Star Wars universe is fun and cathartic, but there are real trials happening in our communities every day in my country with huge impacts on the lives of people in my community. I can only hope the judge in their case is as compassionate as the judge I write in this piece and that those 10 men get to come home soon.
> 
> Ok, back to Star Wars!

“What role did Ben Organa-Solo play in the First Order?” The older man’s voice rang out across the warehouse courtroom, its rough-cut shipping-crate benches groaning under the weight of resistance members gathered to watch.

Ben Solo was in chains, the Jedi Rey beside him, and his mother sitting in the audience. His attorney paused in his patrol of the dusty workroom floor, allowing the silence to gather in the withered afternoon light: “And has he been punished enough?”

The judge nodded to Jyndan Ingo as he sat down and then leaned toward the jury, voice carrying:

"We will begin at the beginning, go on until we reach the end, and then stop. We will review 5 accusations: 1) the events on Yavin IV; 2) the massacre of Tuanul; 3) the torture of Poe Dameron and the Jedi Rey; 4) the destruction of the Hosnian system; and 5) the murder of Han Solo." He gestured to the board where the prosecutor had written each of these crimes on projection glass. "This is not a complete list of every life that Ben Organa-Solo is accused of taking. But we are here for war crimes, not the horror of war itself."

A juror shoved his hand up into the air. The judge gestured that he could speak:

"What about his attack on the bridge of the  _Vigil_? He nearly killed the General!"

A few of the other jurors narrowed their eyes at him, but his eyes were fixed on Ben.

The judge took a deep breath, preparing to speak, but Jyndan stood and said:

"If my client may answer? Knowing it is not at issue but wishing to be forthcoming."

"I'll allow it -- _briefly_." The judge said.

Jyndan glanced at Ben, who moved his hands in the cuffs they had on him. Rey wanted to wince for him but fought to keep her face straight.

"I was ordered to lead the attack on the _Vigil._ I did that. But I refused the order to fire on the bridge." A murmur swept across the courtroom and Rey felt a bloom of hope. Then Ben said: "Blame me for the deaths of your pilots. I fired on the bay, to protect my squad from yours, after over 100,000 First Order soldiers were killed in the destruction of the  _Fulminix_ less than an hour before. I don't say this to excuse myself. Even if the attack was not a war crime because of a technical definition, deaths in war are always losses to those who loved them." He stopped talking, face grim.

The judge nodded, saying: "This is also why we have excluded the attack on Crait. But the juror's question leads me to believe we need to review the statute, also  _briefly_." The judge looked around the room and then settled back into his chair:

"Everyone in this room has lived through war and know its true nature: not as a place of glory, but of loss. Loss is warp on which the tapestry of war is woven; it is inherent. Sometimes necessary loss, when you fight against a tyrant and for freedom for all beings, but a loss nonetheless."

The judge continued, seemingly impervious to the jury's fidgeting at his lecture: "A war crime is a violation of commonly accepted wartime norms. In our galaxy and under the laws of the Republic, wars take place between soldiers. It is a war crime under our laws for a soldier to intentionally kill civilians or torture anyone. Ben Organa-Solo is accused of these crimes. He has also been the victim of several war crimes, including both torture and use as a child soldier and prisoner abuse by the guards at Nautucis, among others."

One of the jurors raised her hand: "A child soldier? I know that's not the purpose of this trial, but -- Ben was what, 18 when he betrayed the Jedi?"

The judge tapped his gavel on the table, shaking his head so his bulbous eyes took in the entire jury. "This question pertains to the events on Yavin IV and will be addressed in that portion of the trial."

Another juror raised her hand: "Just so we know what we're dealing with, if he's found guilty of any of these crimes, what sentences are available?"

The judge answered: "Under Republic law, each of these crimes can carry the death penalty," there was a gasp, but Rey wasn't sure if it was horror -- or anticipation. "Of course," the judge said, raising his voice. The audience quieted and he continued in his regular tone: "Of course, you can also sentence him to prison or time-served or to the kind of restorative justice that he requested for the guards on the Nauticus prison. You have a wide array of options."

The juror nodded, glancing at Ben before looking at her notes and writing something down.

"If there are no further questions?" The judge asked. The jury shook their heads.

"We will proceed. The prosecution may introduce his first witness."

"I call Luke Skywalker."

There was a hush over the court room, everyone glancing side to side before the prosecutor corrected himself --

" _Recordings_ of Luke Skywalker. The first transmitted immediately after the attack on Yavin IV, sent to Resistance headquarters before he ceased communication; the second sent to Lando Calrissian for safe-keeping immediately before the battle of Crait and delivered to us only yesterday, by third parties who will rename nameless for now." Rey glanced to the back of the courtroom to where former General Calrissian was seated with his arms folded.

The prosecutor tapped onto his data pad and Rey felt Ben wince as Luke's shaken voice echoed throughout the warehouse from the datapad on the rickety witness chair and a time long passed:

> _"This will be my last transmission. The Praxeum has fallen. Repeat: the Praxeum has fallen. Ben Solo turned on me. He thinks I am dead. Ben Solo killed his classmates, slaughtered them, and then vanished. The temple was burning when I left. He took some with him, I don't know how many. This will be my last transition."_

He sounded so much younger and so much more frightened than Rey had remembered him. She glanced at Ben, but his face was stone.

Jyndan had arisen to object but the judge raised his hand: "Please hold your questions."

The prosecutor tapped another datafile and Rey heard the voice of the man who had begrudgingly changed her life.

> _"This message is sent to Lando Calrissian, to be delivered to Leia when next they meet. Lando, I am so, so sorry for your loss."_

A shaking breath.

> _"I need Leia to know the truth before I go: I created Kylo Ren. I sensed darkness, sensed it building in him even during his training. That night, my last night on Yavin IV, I came to his room while he was sleeping and invaded his mind. I saw that darkness was beyond what I had ever imagined. I believed then that Snoke had already turned his heart. Dark visions overwhelmed me, told me that this boy would end everything I held dear. So in a moment of pure instinct, I attacked him. He tried to use the Force to stop me and Snoke took advantage and amplified his power beyond anything I had ever felt. It poured out of him like an earthquake across the Praxeum, just as devastating to that old temple -- and as uncontrollable. But he was 15, terrified and powerful and manipulated and alone. He was a frightened boy and I was his master. I failed him and Snoke took him."_
> 
> _"Leia, Rey just left. You sent me Rey, trusted me with another young life, and I drove her away. I failed her too. She has gone to Ben, gone to help, to use some kind of conflict she sees in him as a bridge. She_ shouted _at me, Leia; you would have been so proud. I have little hope her mission will succeed, she may be dead by his hand even now, but you need to know where she has gone. I owe you that much. I couldn't help save your son. I will try my best to save you and the resistance. I love you."_

There was a hitch, like there had been some time taken between takes:

> _"Lando, you old space pirate, I know you were listening. I am so sorry. Ben is responsible for what he did to Han, but I am too. I never meant for it to go this way. My friend, please forgive me."_

The recording stopped.

 

The prosecutor strode before the jury and said: "There were 70 children in the Praxeum that night. Fewer than a dozen survived. Ben Organa-Solo's use of the Force, no matter how it was manipulated by the being who became Supreme Leader Snoke, was the cause of their deaths. This is not disputed. The killing of civilians is a war crime."

"I will now call Ben Organa-Solo to the stand."

Ben stood and Rey immediately felt his absence, her heart clenching as she watched him move slowly to the chair. She remembered that night on Lehon when he had told her he was a monster for what happened on Yavin IV. She would never want for him to lie, but she didn't believe he was clear-sighted on this. She gripped the sides of her chair.

"Mr Organa-Solo, did you intend to kill the padawan, apprentices, and knights on Yavin IV?" Jyndan Ingo asked.

"No, I did not."

Members of the jury were leaning closer.

"Then why did you kill them?"

Ben covered his face, taking a deep breath. Rey wanted to run to him, to pull him away, fight her way through the crowd, take him someplace safe. She held onto her chair and reminded herself that going on trial was Ben's choice. But oh, she hated it.

"I know the law says it is only a war crime if I killed civilians intentionally, but I don't think that matters. It doesn't matter to their parents and it doesn't matter to me -- I have to live with having killed them, whether I was manipulated or not, the power that took their lives started inside me," and he hit his chest over his heart, once, twice, three times, so hard Rey could hear the hollow echo from across the courtroom.

She bit her lips and forced herself to keep watching. He was speaking to the jury: "I am sorry. I tried to fight Snoke, for years, and I was  _winning_ , I was fighting back but then -- Luke came for me. I thought I was going to die, that I had no choice but to fight back, and that was the final crack that let Snoke in and he came roaring in, boiled over my careful control, obliterating my thoughts, just taking everything. I am sorry I wasn't strong enough. You deserved better than me. If I could have traded my life for theirs, I would have; I would, this instant, if I could --"

Jyndan interrupted him: "Regardless of your personal feelings, the law requires you to have intended to kill the children. When did Snoke start speaking to you through the Force?"

"What?" Ben asked, looking confused.

"How old were you when Snoke began trying to recruit you, grooming you -- you said you had been fighting for years."

Ben closed his eyes. "As far back as I can remember, I heard his voice inside my head, telling me I was made for the dark side, that I was heir apparent to Lord Vader. It only grew quiet when I was connected with Rey and then silent forever when I killed him. Maybe when I was 4 or 5?"

There was a choking sound and Rey glanced back to see the General rushing out of the courtroom, her hand over her mouth. Rey turned back around to find Ben staring at the swinging door, looking stricken.

"And did you tell anyone?"

Ben shook his head, voice cracking: "No, Snoke said he would hurt my family and they wouldn't believe me and I was good for being mature enough to keep a secret." He shook his head. "It sounds ridiculous --"

"It does not." Jyndan said, voice cutting across his client's, "His grooming tactics have been used by abusers of children for millennia. No one is to blame for his behavior but him." A deep breath.

"Before that night, had Snoke ordered you to hurt others at the Praxeum?"

"Yes." Ben said, frowning, looking like he was thinking over what Jyndan had said before, about grooming.

"And when Luke Skywalker attacked you with his lightsaber, were you a member of the First Order?"

"No -- I was a Jedi apprentice."

"When did you become a member of the First Order?"

"After my time on Lehon."

"How did you get to Lehon?"

"After Skywalker came after me, and what happened happened, I spent days trying to dig all of the little ones out of the temple with my bare hands. My connection to the Force was weakened, fragile after what Snoke did. Like Skywalker said, it was an old temple, and what I did shattered it, brought the river in and flooded the lower levels where they slept. All of the food stores were gone, we were starving, and Luke was gone. Kids died waiting for someone from the Rebellion to come and they didn't." 

"The First Order did. The dozen that they took went to Snoke immediately, but he had left orders to have me tested before I would be 'allowed' to join. I had to survive on Lehon." He took a deep breath. "I was 15 when the First Order left me in a rancor breeding pit with just my lightsaber and the promise they would be back to pick me up -- if I survived."

The warehouse was dead silent and Rey's back ached with tension. Ben continued: "After Lehon, there was an induction ceremony where I joined the others. It was, it was several years before I was named Master of the Knights of Ren."

"And why was it several years? What happened during that period, Ben?"

Ben looked straight at Jyndan Ingo and said, quietly: "A lot of torture."

There was a long moment of quiet as the wind tapped out its evening tidings on the loose glass in the courtroom windows, flinging the first drops of what promised to be a real rainstorm.

"To review," Jyndan said, "Ben Solo was not a member of the First Order on the night in question, nor did he intend to kill any of the children involved. No matter his personal feelings of guilt, this does not meet the definition of a war crime, though it does meet the definition of a tragedy."

The judge nodded to the jury, saying: "You may ask questions of the prosecution, the defense, or the living witness."

One of the jurors raised his hand, voice choking: "Some of them, we didn't find all of the bodies. Do you know who -- do you know who went to the Knights of Ren?"

Ben frowned: "You don't know their identities?"

The man shook his head and the judge chuckled darkly: "Those masks have been fairly effective."

"Kriff," Ben said, voice soft and rough, "I had no idea -- I would have sent word as soon as I was out of Nauticus -- told Rey _while_ I was there -- I can tell you right now --"

The judge jumped in before Ben could go further: "Let's leave that for after today's session. These families have waited more than a decade, we can wait a few minutes longer. Are there other questions?"

There were none. The judge reminded the jury that the next morning would begin with the massacre at Tuanul and pounded his gavel to end the session.

\--

Rey hadn't been allowed to walk Ben back to his cell. Jyndan had told her, with her testimony coming up the next day, she needed to not be seen with Ben except during the trial. "Though I don't think that will keep you two apart," he said, knowingly.

Rey nodded, and left to check-on the General before dinner. Finn, Rose, and Poe caught-up with her as she passed through the dining hall.

"Rey," Rose said, "We need to talk."

"We found something out, and you're not going to like it," Finn added.

"We need to make sure the General is alright first," Rey said, eyes worried.

She ran to the dining hall with the three of them; no General; the rose gardens cloaked in rain; no General. Finally, she took them through the back corridors and through the winding passages to the library. She entered the key and they all tumbled in. There was the General, sitting at one of the tables with a stack of books beside her, arms braced on either side of the book in front of her, head bent.

It was  _Tales as Old as Time_ , Rey recognized the illustration for Anima and Amor. She approached as the others made themselves scarce, fading into the stacks.

"Ma'am?" She said in a low voice.

"It wasn't his last communication, not really," the General said. 

Rey stayed quiet.

"It was to me, of course; but he left that memory drive with Low San Tekka and the rest with R2. And there were hints -- he worked with Lando to get the little things Ahch-To couldn't provide him, the things that he would miss. Holochess batteries, that kind of thing. So I would hear, months later, that my brother -- " She took a deep breath and Rey saw for the first time how much of this woman's family hinged on her finding a way to go on, to hold the center while they spun off into their own worlds and never told her where they were going or who they were taking with them. The General slipped the book closed, the portrait of the man backed by a million stars tucked tight between its pages.

"Ben mentioned how many were killed on the  _Fulminix._ I was trying to look up how many were killed on each Death Star here before I got sidetracked with fairytales." She ran a hand down the spines of the books on the table beside her.

Rey spoke slowly, "Ma'am, those were military installations, there's no way any deaths would be considered war crimes. Every soldier on the Death Star -- "

"-- Every soldier on the Death Star could have been Finn." The General glanced to the stacks and then back Rey's pale face and wide eyes. Then she shook her head.

"It's like Ben said: just because we can't be held accountable for a death, a death is still a loss. We go to war when we're young, for these big reasons. Sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's glorious and thrilling. But those parts fade as you get older, Rey, they always do; but the necessity of the conflict doesn't. Just because it's not fun anymore doesn't mean we can just roll-over and let the First Order run the galaxy. But, maybe," and she looked at the book, "When we think of our children and the cost our choices have brought to them, perhaps we will look a little harder for diplomatic solutions to future conflicts. Or maybe just listening to them when -- "

And she choked herself off. Rey sank down to her knees, whispering urgently: "Ma'am, like Jyndan said, Snoke is the only one to blame for what he did to Ben. And Ben killed him -- sliced how right down the middle and left his body to rot. Just because he's dead doesn't mean we need to transfer blame to anyone else. He kept Ben from telling anyone what was happening; that's on him, not you."

The General was quiet. Rey heard Rose cough and then Poe hush her. She spoke quietly to the General, sensing she wouldn't get much further on that point: "Rose said she has an update on the assassination attempt; have they told you their findings?"

The General shook her head, saying: "I've heard rumors, but a proper report would be refreshing."

Rey glanced up to see Poe, Finn, and Rose moseying out from the stacks.

"Good evening, ma'am," Poe started and the General nodded, waving them to take seats around the well-polished study table. The lighting panels on the sides of the book cases cast them all into golden hues, softening the lines of their faces so they all looked younger, brighter than they ought to be after a long day in court.

The General leaned back in her chair: "It was you who found the second recording."

Finn nodded. "It was us who found the second recording."

"Does that mean that Lando --"

Poe was shaking his head. "We don't have definitive proof, ma'am. We requested access to all of the ships who had come with us to Deyala, did a massive pull of all non-classified communications and Rose wrote a a script to troll for references to 'Kylo Ren' and 'Ben Solo'," He glanced over at Rose.

She chuckled: "I guess we're just lucky that Luke didn't decide to be Jedi-vague in his confession, or else my program never would have flagged it."

The General looked serious: "So we know Lando didn't turn over Luke's transmission willingly but we don't know why. We know he blames Ben for Han's death --"

"Ben blames Ben for Han's death," Rey said, voice tight. "You heard him on the stand. He doesn't accept that he wasn't in full control during his time in the First Order, not really. I mean, he does, for bits and pieces, but in his core, he thinks he should have been able to fight any kind of torture, any kind of control."

The General shook her head: "We tend towards nerf-headed-ness in our family, Rey. Sometimes it's a feature; most of the time it's a bug."

Poe snorted and then schooled his face.

"We went back through everything we had on the assassin -- "

"Well, _I_ did -- Poe was busy trying to keep Ben's guards in-line those first few days." Finn broke in and Poe nodded, chagrined, waving for him to continue.

"He was a resistance soldier, had been his whole life really. He had been on his own since he was 5. He wandered aboard one of the ships at a port and hid until they hit hyperspace, then made himself useful enough no one ever made him leave. Worked as a mechanic. No family, no major battles -- he had some casual friends, but no one close. He was only 19. The only thing that stands out is -- "

And Finn pulls out his datapad, clicking to a file and reading: "In the last month, he spent a huge portion of his savings on household supplies."

The General frowned. "He had a room in the mansion, right? What kind of household supplies?"

Finn replied: "He did, and we've been over his room a hundred times. All we found of use was a receipt for the household goods, tucked in his only other jacket's pocket," He pulled up a picture of it. "'2 garden hoses, 1 trowel, 1 shovel, 1 rake, 1 set of gardening gloves (small), 1 set of sheers,' and something called an 'arbor.'"

Finn shrugged. "I had to look up pictures for most of those things and I didn't see anything like them in his quarters, though I couldn't find a picture of an arbor that made sense, nothing he could carry away himself."

The General's eyes were brightening, a smile rising: "That's because only a wookie could carry an arbor. It would have to be delivered -- most of them are bigger than this table."

Finn's eyes were wide and he glanced at Poe, Rose and Rey. They each shook their heads -- none of them had ever seen an arbor.

The General leaned forward: "Alright, I have a theory, but I need you to check it out. Call the company that he bought these supplies from and tell them there's been an issue with the arbor and you need them to pick it up to return it. Get them to confirm the pick-up address with you."

"Pick-up address?" Finn asked. The General nodded.

"I think our assassin might have been paid in-kind -- I think someone gave him property in exchange for him trying to kill my son. All of these purchases, they look a lot like nesting. What someone might do if they had their own space for the first time in their lives."

She glanced at Rey and Rey nodded, standing: "I'm going to try to get a few minutes with Ben before lights-out, to let him know -- "

Poe grabbed her sleeve, fingers gripping tight: "That's not all we found," he said, eyes serious.

Rey eased herself back into her chair as Poe said: "We've known all along that General Calrissian hates Ben. After his display at the dinner the night after the failed assassination attempt, finding that he'd withheld evidence, and after speaking with Jyndan, we figured he was the one pushing hard for Ben's trial to be focused on just war crimes and leaving aside all that happened on Nauticus." Rey had been thinking the same thing. "He's also the only one rich enough to be able to do something like buy property on Deyala, a planet with strict rules about non-Alderaanians owning land." The General nodded.

Poe took a deep breath: "But what we don't have is a motive. He didn't have a child in the Praxeum. He doesn't do any more business with the First Order than any other smuggler, so no special ties there that might have been ruptured by Ben revealing their plans. He isn't Hosnian, didn't seem to have any special love of or loyalty to the Republic government --"

"It was Han," Rey whispered, and the General stiffened. Rey remembered the embroidered shirt Ben had worn on their return-trip to Nauticus, what he'd told her about what he knew about Han and Lando's relationship. She looked at the General and clenched her teeth. She had no idea what the General had known about her husband's relationships, no idea what rules they might or might not have had in their marriage. Looking at the table, she spoke slowly, choosing every word:

"Ben told me that Lando taught him how to sew on a long trip with just the three of them. He said," she swallowed, "He said Han and Lando were very close. I think they were close enough Han's death severed any, uh, family-feeling he had for Ben, made him focus on vengeance for Han and see Ben only as a killer."

She felt her face heating-up and desperately wished she could access the Force, could get a hint of what the General was hiding behind her durasteel expression. But she couldn't, so when Poe clapped his hands and said:

"Vengeance for a lost loved-one is motive enough for me. What we need now is something connecting him to the assassin, something strong enough to peel away Calrissian's remaining supporters or make him back-off without a trial. We're risking a schism in the resistance if we move against him in the wrong way. There's so much more sympathy for Ben than there was before the trial, but there are still some hold-outs and there's not enough of us to fight amongst ourselves. We'll follow-up on the arbor tomorrow and meet here after court to discuss our findings?"

They all nodded and stood. The General caught Rey's sleeve: "Tell Ben -- tell him I'm sorry,"

Rey felt an overwhelming rush of feeling and hugged the older woman, who remained stiff in her arms before she came to her senses and pulled away again: "I will, ma'am, but I don't think he believes you did anything wrong."

The General shook her head, eyes sad: "Then he's more nerf-headed than even his father was. Get going, lights-out is in a few minutes."

Rey ran.

She reached the cell and reached through the bars and Ben was there, and he took her hands and oh, this was better than the dream, feeling his skin on hers, his hands moving in hers. _Alive and here, alive and here_. She leaned her forehead against the bars and he met her, barely touching with the metal pressing in around them.

She felt a nudge against her shins and pulled away to look down and see his guardian ysalamir rubbing across her calves like a scent-marking loth cat. The guard who'd been sitting in her chair beside the cell stood and said:

"Ma'am, lights-out is in just a moment, I can delay, but --"

Rey looked at Ben and he tightened his grip.

"Two minutes, please."

The guard nodded and wandered around the corner, aiming for speed, not subtlety. 

"I missed you too," Ben said and Rey huffed out a sigh, speaking low and fast.

"We think it was Lando who ordered the hit," she said, knowing she would cause pain but needing him to know, "Because of Han. Finn and Rose and Poe are building a case, but I needed you to know in case he tries again. We just met with your mother and she said," and her voice shifted, getting quieter, "She said to tell you she's sorry --"

"She doesn't have --" He started and Rey nodded, sliding her hands-up to grip his wrists.

"I know. I told her you would say that," She said, running out of steam, knowing the guard would be there in a moment. Her voice was small when she said: "I just needed you to hear it from me in the waking world: you didn't deserve what happened to you, with Snoke. You deserved so much better. I can't wait to see you out of here --"

He nodded, eyes scanning her face, taking in every single thing he could gather before she would have to leave: "I can't wait either. Only a few days left, one way or the other,"

She flinched, but the guard was coming around the corner and she had to get going.

"My love, I will see you soon," he whispered, and she nodded, gaze never leaving his until she turned the corner.

\--

Rey was up and running the moment she fell into her dream, bare feet pounding the villa's stone floor, barely noticing she's wearing some kind of exercise outfit, formfitting and tight, her steps echoing ahead of her towards the iron door. She shoved it open and felt to her knees beside the bed, muttering:

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should have come earlier but --"

"I'm here," he said, hands going to her cheeks, steadying her, "I'm here. I understand."

"I had to check on your mother and then the others needed to update her on the report and all I wanted to do was get to you but --"

"But you have responsibilities?" He said, his voice teasing. He eased himself up and set on the edge of the bed. With the cooridoor's torchlight flickering on his face, he looked so much larger than life sitting there above her. Then he cracked a grin and pulled her up so she was sitting beside him, his arm around her waist.

"What do you say we climb some trees today?" He asked, "You're certainly dressed for it," and she nodded.

"I'll probably be better at it than you," she said as they stood, "I  _did_ spend my whole childhood climbing around inside Star Destroyers," she said.

He wiggled his fingers against her side, more like the threat of a tickle than the reality of it.

"Sounds like a challenge -- last one to the atrium is a nerf!"

And he took off running down the hallway, big boots slapping on the floor, Rey's laughter echoing around them as she sped to catch-up.

\--

"It was my first field assignment. I had been on janitorial duty on Starkiller, on the  _Finalizer_ , on a dozen different ships since I was stolen from a family I'll never know. When Hux -- General Hux -- heard Kylo Ren was going to the surface, he voluntold anyone who was handy to get into the nearest ship and make contact before he did. He didn't trust him or the Supreme leader. There had always been sort-of two organizations, the governmental entity of the First Order and the paramilitary that worked on Snoke's pet projects; that second group was the Knights of Ren. The shuttle to the surface of Jakku was so, so shaky. We heard the blaster fire begin to hit us before we touched down; not that it would have mattered. We'd been told it was a resistance-supporting village and to expect total war from the inhabitants. We had our blasters ready and most of the Stormtroopers began firing before they'd left the cargo-hold. That's what we were treated like, cargo; no names, nothing. Back then, I was called F-2187. It was Poe Dameron who gave me my name."

"What happened next?"

"Someone I knew died, left a big smear of his blood across my mask. Someone had shot him, on their side; it might have been Poe. I don't know. Kylo Ren touched down and we stopped shooting so he could talk to an old man. I heard Ben say something like, 'Look at hold old you've become,' and the old man said, 'Something far worse has happened to you.' I thought that was strange, because I didn't think of Kylo Ren as someone things happened to; the kind of happened to people, and to walls, and to maintenance units that got in his way and other people had to clean up. Anyway, the old man said something about Ben's family and Kylo Ren killed him with his jaggedy lightsaber. Then Poe tried to shoot him."

Finn raised his hand in the air, palm out, arm straight: "He stopped it, shivering cold in the air, and it hung there, buzzing like a Gungam-bee. Poe was being held by two big guys but he started sassing Ben. It was amazing. Then he ordered Poe to be loaded into his ship. Then Phasma, the head of my detachment, asked Kylo Ren what we should do with the villagers." 

And Finn stopped, looking at Ben, a whole language of apologies in his eyes.

The prosecutor prompted: "And then?"

Finn took a deep breath and said: "Then Kylo Ren said, 'Kill them all.' And then Phasma gave the order." There was silence in the courtroom.

"Were the villagers civilians?"

"They were fighting to protect their homes, but that no more made them soldiers for the resistance than I was when I refused that order -- which I did. I didn't fire. I couldn't. My friend dying, the way the old man had spoken to Ben; nothing about what was happening felt right. Then I got Poe out of the interrogation room, got him to BB-8, hooked-up with Rey, and then eventually joined the resistance."

"Do you believe Ben's order to kill the villagers on Tuanul was a war crime?"

"I'm not a lawyer -- "

"Neither is any member of the jury. The law isn't for lawyers, it's for the people whose lives it shapes. Do you, personally, think what happened on Tuanul was a war crime?"

"Yes. Ben I am so sorry, but yes."

Jyndan Ingo rose, saying:

"My client asked you to tell the truth and you have. Thank you, Finn. One clarifying question: you said that Mr Organa-Solo said: 'Kill them all' and that, 'Phasma gave the order.' Why did Phasma have to give the order?"

"Kylo Ren didn't give orders to Stormtroopers, not usually." Finn said, and Rey got the feeling he was grateful Jydan asked. Maybe this had been a part of their plan.

"How so?"

"Like I said at the beginning, there was the regular military and the paramilitary. Kylo Ren and his Knights, they reported directly to Snoke and took their orders that way too. They existed outside of the chain of command. When they gave commands, usually the actual unit leader would confirm them before they were executed."

"Thank you." 

\--

Their meeting that night in the library was short. Rose reported back: "I went to the house today while Finn was testifying -- the phone call worked, ma'am -- but it was empty. No clear evidence who was staying there from the outside; the doors were locked and the shades were drawn. No one answered when I knocked. I didn't want to break-and-enter without a better idea of what we would find. I've sent the address to each of your data pads."

Rey clicked on it and moved to a street view photo of it and withheld a gasp. It was  _beautiful_. A little cottage, a few kilometers away from the mansion where they were staying, tucked into a curve of one of the foothills. But the address wasn't what held her attention -- it was the garden. The front of the house was overflowing with roses, bright red and pink and yellow roses, heaped climbing roses, a clover lawn and river stone pathway leading up to it. There was a garage with enough space for a shop and a well-paved driveway to it, with massive, arcing trees shading the whole property.

\--

Rey awoke in the hallway of the villa, curled in front of the door, back pressed against it, wearing her tunic. She barely rolled-away in time to avoid getting smacked as Ben threw it open, beginning to run down the hallway, eyes wild. He was wearing some kind of flowing garment with a cape that trailed down to his ankles -- more of the ysalamiri's match-making attempts.

"Ben," she croaked, then when he was frantically looked to see where he voice had come from, she said up and said, louder: "Ben!"

And he was on his knees in front of her, pulling her to his chest, breathing hard.

"I had a dream that I hadn't been able to heal you, or I had but it had made you worse, or the blaster had killed you instantly --"

He buried his face in her shoulder, barely keeping his swirling emotions under control. Into the strange, nearly transparent cloth the ysalamiri had imagined her in he muttered: "Theesa, I'd like to requisition better dreams." 

She gave a watery laugh and held him tighter.

"I'll put in the work-order right away."

They spent the day in the vineyard, exploring the different kinds of grapes, rarely more than a step away from the other's side; Ben stayed in the flowing clothes, though they did away with the cape. They were quiet together and stayed close. They knew what was coming the next day, what Rey would have to talk about.

\--

Rey awoke and stretched, making her body as long as it would go, arching up into the waiting sunlight. It was a bright, chilly day outside. The rain from the day before was stuck high up in the durasteel clouds. She knew she would be called-on to testify today about what Ben had done on Starkiller. She tried to think of a quiet, still place, but she kept hearing Ben's broken-sounding breath in her ear. She got ready and made her way down to the dining hall where Finn was holding a table for her, Rose and Poe having been called to a morning meeting. She'd only been eating for a minute when he began to try to apologize for his testimony. She shook her head, saying:

"You told the truth. Ben knew you would and wouldn't ask you otherwise. We have to hope that the jury either believes what he went through on Nauticus was some kind of punishment for Tuanul or that him helping the resistance is worth the trade. He and I spoke about that day, back on Lehon, and he was living in the darkest part of his heart that day, treating lives as if they didn't matter, only movements did, and he thought that finding Skywalker would bring order and so anything was worth doing to achieve it. That's a kriffing stupid way to think, but that's what was going through his head. You told the truth. He knows what he did. You don't need to apologize."

Finn nodded and picked at his pastry.

"I've come to like the guy, you know? I hated him when he first arrived but, it's hard to hate someone you've eaten with, played in hot springs with. I just hope the jury can see the light in him, under all that darkness."

"Me too," Rey said, voice firm. She stood:

"Ready to go?" Finn nodded, leaving most of his pastry uneaten. Rey glared at him until he pocketed it. They turned to walk towards the warehouse.

But when they arrived at the door, the prosecutor and Jyndan were standing outside of it.

"Rey," Jyndan said, and the prosecutor broke in.

"We haven't met, but I appreciated everything you did on Crait and on the  _Finalizer_. I can also see your good work in how Mr Organa-Solo has come back to us. Thank you."

She nodded, not sure what to say.

The prosecutor kept going: "But I need to ask you to not attend this morning."

Rey's eyes widened and she glanced at Jyndan. He nodded his head, saying: "Ben already knows and understands."

"But -- why?" She asked.

The prosecutor folded his hands together, swaying back on his heels, saying: "I don't want Mr Dameron's testimony to impact yours. You went through what might be very similar experiences and in cases like this, sometimes memories can be warped, dulled by hearing others' stories. I want the jury to know that what you're telling them comes from your own recollections and isn't changed to support or contrast with the other testimony they have heard."

Rey nodded slowly. To Jyndan, she said: "Are you sure Ben is ok with this?"

"I am."

"Alright," Rey said, "I'll be back after lunch?"

"That will be fine," the prosecutor said.

\--

Not sure where else to go, Rey went to the cottage Rose had found. She thought about borrowing a skimmer from the mechanics she'd gotten to know, but it was only a 30 minute walk, so she wrapped herself up in her cloak, in case anyone was going to be too particular about her leaving the area of ysalamir control, and climbed over one of the compound walls out of sight of the guards.

Access to the Force hit her like jumping into the frigid seas of Ahch-To -- overwhelming, encompassing, dense and clear. She felt like she could breathe again, like she could see and touch and feel and all she wanted was for Ben to be beside her, to feel this with her. She got to walking.

She could smell the cottage before she saw it, the twisting sweetness of twining roses gentling their way through the golden mid-morning Deyalan air. It was a quiet walk through the woods to the front door, the roses a bit on the path, maybe a month's wild growth. She wondered if the previous owners had knelt in the soil like Anima or hired gardeners to keep their home.

She stood under a tall and arcing tree and looked at the cottage. Like Rose had said, it seemed empty, with no movement, no light. She was about to turn back, to head to the mansion to prepare for her testimony, when one of the blinds twitched. Guided by something she'd always thought was luck and was only recently beginning to call the Force, she found herself walking down the riverstone pathway, up the low stairs and knocking on the red door. She saw a hallway light flick-on through the heart-shaped window rimmed by black metal, too high for her to see through. There were steps, hard and soft, like the hallway was tile with a thick carpet over it, then --

The door opened and Rey nearly stumbled off the steps.

Lando Calrissian stood before her, yellow morning robe wrapped around him, dark eyes widening.

"I saw your friend sneaking around yesterday," he said, then waved her in. "Don't just stand there, come in."

Rey felt the weight of her lightsaber on her hip and nodded, moving past him.

"Shoes off, please; the carpets are antiques." He said. She kept her eyes on him. He was in sleeping clothes under his robe, barefoot, but his eyes were sharp. There was a whistling sound from her right and he moved towards it: "Tea?"

"Thank you," Rey said, following him, keeping an eye on his hands.

They went into a cheerfully cluttered kitchen, teacups hanging over the sink, dishtowels on the oven door; it reminded her of the pictures in the magazine Jyndan Ingo had given her, the quiet homes behind the potters profiled in its pages. Nothing like the turn-key comfort of the cottages on Lehon or the luxury of the mansion where they were all staying. This was a home.

"How long have you lived here?" Rey asked, wishing she could ask Ben the etiquette for home-visits. Lando handed her a delicately-gilded teacup, pale ceramic light in her hand, a painted rose twining down the stem and into the bowl where a single bud bloomed on its pale surface and gestured for her to follow him. The kitchen led to a living room with darkwood walls reaching up to become arching beams, lined with comfortable couches and with two chairs sat facing in each other in front of a cheerily blazing fire. There were bookcases set into the walls, full of some elegant nicknacks but no books. She glanced around -- there was another wall of bookcases, also empty, these blocked by a two-meter-long traveling cape-wrack, packed full-to-bursting with a metallic rainbow of capes. He sat and waved for her to take the other seat.

"I don't live here. I bought it as an investment, then a payment, and now it's as good a place as any to wait out that travesty of a trial the General is presiding over. How is your shoulder, by the way?"

Rey took a sip of the tea, keeping her face neutral: "Healed," she answered.

He nodded. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. He wasn't supposed to miss."

She froze.

He laughed: "You're a smart girl, I see why the General likes you. You're wasted on the Skywalker clan. They're stubborn, overpowered, overweaned idiots the lot of them. The last one who really had any hustle was Anakin and look how he turned out." He took a sip of his tea.

"Han, though, Han was different. A scrambler and a gambler all his life, no amount of spit-polish and soft-living could take that away from him. You know he once nearly killed a treaty Leia had spent months negotiation on Dathomir by insisting the witches pay-up what he'd cheated out of them at Sabaac? That old fool," he said and while his voice was fond, it was his eyes that told Rey the truth. They were full of. Pain like she'd felt when she'd seen Ben caged on Nauticus. It was a pain that turned you inside out, turned the world upside down -- pain that could make you want to kill your partner's son.

"Now, enough of that," he said, waving his hand, and she sat back. "I may not have the connection to the Force the Skywalkers do, but I can tell when someone is being nosy, and you miss, are being nosy."

She nodded, taking another sip of tea.

Lando sighed. "Do you know what you're going to say tomorrow? About how Han died?"

Rey lowered the teacup, feeling a rushing in her head, "I'm going to tell the truth."

Lando laughed: ""The truth?' Kriff, you're young. You're all so young. What truth?"

Rey answered, a thread of anger rising from where she had been stuffing it down since the moment she stepped into this house: "I saw Ben's conflict, I  _felt_ it. I saw Ben beg Han for help. I saw Han try to help him. I saw Snoke take over, overwhelm his control, his sense of self, like he did on Yavin IV. I saw Ben kill Han --"

"He  _murdered him_ _!_ "Lando shouted and he was standing, looming over Rey, the firelight igniting in his eyes, and Rey sat still, giving him nothing to react against but her smooth, watchful face.

"He killed a general on the opposing side of a war --" Rey started, wanting to prepare Lando for what was to come, to dull his rage, but he spat back --

"He killed his  _father._ "

Rey answered, eyes steady, glaring up at him: "He did. He is going to have to live with that for the rest of his life. Like I do to a much lesser extent, and like Chewie does, like you and the General do. But I don't think the jury will find it a war crime. Twisted and awful, yes; the product of years of conditioning and abuse, almost certainly. But punishable as a crime? Not unless the Rebellion and the Resistance are going to be held accountable for every life lost on the Death Stars, on Starkiller, on the  _Finalizer_. Soldiers at war kill other soldiers. It's always a tragedy and it's rarely a crime."

She looked into the blazing fire: "Ben Solo was a child-soldier for the First Order who never really gained any power, not over his own life, not over the direction of the Order. He had that power for a few hours before he was drugged, kidnapped, and chained-up in a Chriss prison, but did nothing with it. What good would killing him do? How would it help bring us to peace sooner?"

Lando had listened, huffing and glowering, but at her question he sagged back.

"You are so, so young. Logic like that doesn't change feelings. He  _deserves_ to die because he killed Han. Not because of some law or statute but because he was  _mine_ and my life and the one who took him away from me doesn't deserve to live." He looked at her musingly for a moment before adding: "When he missed, I wondered if that would be enough -- to take you from Ben. You might have had the others fooled, but I saw his face when he thought you were gone. I recognized that grief, that rage. But I realized it wasn't enough, knowing he was alive and hurting. So you have nothing to fear from me. Ben though," he rubbed his hand through his hair, "Ben's life is forfeit."

Rey shook her head: "I can't accept that."

He laughed again, a sharp bark of irritation: "You don't have to. It's the truth."

"Killing Ben won't get you Han back!" She said, her frustration and desperation finally breaking through.

He shook his head, standing, checking the time. "It doesn't have to, young one. But if you want to get back to the courtroom in time, you had better get going." She set the teacup on the hearth with a clink and strode out, grabbing her boots as she left, head swirling and heart sick.

\--

"I woke up and I was tied to a torture wrack. Ben spoke to me, sensed I still wanted to kill him. He was curious. I called him a 'creature in a mask.' He tried to find out where I had hidden BB-8. He threatened me, said he could take whatever he wanted. He tried to get into my mind; he learned about how I had grown up. He told me he knew I had thought Han was the father I had never had."

"But like when you're sparring, and you pick-up someone's moves on the fly? The whole time, I was able to turn his mind techniques against him, dig into his brain, so in the end it was me doing the seeking and not him. I told him I knew he was afraid he would never be as strong as Darth Vader. That, that scared him, I think. Then he left and I used my newfound control of the Force to convince a Stormstrooper to remove my restraints. Then I escaped."

She took a breath.

"Why he left me with just one Stormtrooper guarding me, when he knew the kind of power I had, is a mystery to me. Over and over, whether on purpose or by accident, Ben went about doing Snoke's bidding in the least effective way possible. Maybe he wasn't a good tactician, maybe he was too lost to his internal conflict, or maybe some part of him didn't want to see me put through what he went through, what it would take to force me to become one of the Knights of Ren. I don't know. But I got out of that room on the base and helped to destroy Starkilled base, fought him in the forest and wounded him enough I could escape."

The prosecutor asked: "To review, he invaded your mind?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe that was torture?"

Rey closed her eyes, trying to think back, trying to tell the truth. "I thought I was about to be tortured. I was very, very afraid. I thought he was going to come back to torture me. But at the moment I escaped, I thought the torture hadn't started. Because in my experience, torture means pain. There was no pain and none of the abject, helpless fear that I've felt when I've been tortured in the past. I don't know if there are laws against mental invasion, because that felt wrong when he did it to me and when I did it back to him, like it violated personal boundaries. It felt -- it felt more like someone going through my pockets at a check-point. A violation of my privacy; not torture. I'm not saying that is what it would have felt like for everyone, but that's what it was for me."

"I need a yes or no answer please."

"No, Ben did not torture me. I know that he tortured Poe. But as afraid as I was, Ben didn't use pain to try and get information from me."

\--

Rey met the team in the library and told them what she had learned from Lando. A confession, but no witnesses the jury would believe for sure; not enough to bring charges.

The General said: "If Lando bought the house to pay-off the assassin, I might be able to find the prior owners through my network. Give me a day."

They nodded.

\--

Rey awoke beside the fountain and took her time standing. She and Ben had never talked about their first conversation and she didn't know how he felt about what she'd said on the stand. She was still shaken from tea with Lando -- and from moving back into the flow of the Force and back out again all within an hour. She walked slowly down the corridor and slipped the door open.

Ben was thrashing in the bed and suddenly she felt awful -- awful for stalling, for leaving him trapped while she thought, for not pulling him out of this nightmare faster because she was worried about what he'd think of her. She knelt on the bed, hand on his cheek and said:

"Ben, come back to me."

He awoke with a start and turned away from her, gasping into the darkness. Her hand was on his shoulder now and he was wearing something smooth and soft and dark as the air around them. She moved her hand to his back, sliding across his shoulder blades, back and forth, back and forth, until his breathing eased and he turned back to her, moving slowly, giving her a chance to move away. She stayed right where she was:

"I hated seeing you on that stand, being questioned like you were my victim," he said, and she felt a chill running down her spine.

"Well, I wasn't. And that's what I told them."

He shook his head, dark hair flowing around his face, out of any semblance of order. "But what if I had returned, what if I had brought you to  _Snoke_?" He said, voice harsh. She could feel a flicker on his skin, something like might be tears, something that might be stars. 

"I might have killed you," she said softly, leaning her forehead against his, "I might have killed Snoke. I might have been killed or turned. I might have escaped anyway. We never know the paths winds take across dunes we have not walked. We can spend hours imagining them, beating ourselves black and blue and yellow with them, or we can go outside and you can tell me some of the stories in the mosaic."

Ben moved his arms arms around her. "If I had lost you, lost this, that night, even if I had lived, my life would have been over."

Rey pressed her lips to his neck, felt his loose hair tickle her nose.

"Come on," she said before standing, her hand out to him, "I'll fix your hair if you fix mine."

\--

The prosecutor stood and Rey tried not the fidget. She'd had to eat while running to court, having lots track of time that morning trying to recreate the hairstyle Ben had put on her last night. It was a big braid, starting at her crowd and temples, turning into a whirl of smaller braids hanging low on her neck. He'd told her it was a peacetime style, though one that indicated more of a hope for peace than an expectation of it. War had been much on his mind during the dream, with every story from the mosaic he told seeming to come back to that question of who is responsible for the deaths of soldiers.

The prosector started: "For every other crime we have discussed, the victims were in the dozens or singles. Horrifying as they were, members of the jury could hold the faces of each victim in their minds. For the charge of participating in the greatest loss of life experienced in our galaxy, that kind of personal connection is impossible. We all of us knew people who died when the First Order destroyed the Hosnian System, decapitating the Senate and taking with it the central government of the Republic."

"The question, as Mr Ingo mentioned on the first day of this half of the trial, is what role Ben Organa-Solo played in the decision to attack Hosnia, the decision to commit genocide. We have heard that he existed outside of the chain of command. We have heard him speak honestly about his actions, but even honest people can flinch away from revealing how they helped to commit atrocities. So I call to the stand Lieutenant Kaydel Ko Connix, the General's attache and an intelligence expert who has reviewed all of the data we have on how the First Order came to attack the Hosnian system."

The General's attache stood and worked her way up from the back of the courtroom to the wicker-backed witness chair, hands folded firmly in her lap.

"Lieutenant Connix, in your opinion as an intelligence expert, what role did Ben Organa-Solo play in the Hosnian genocide?" The prosecutor asked, voice cool.

"None," Lieutenant Connix replied. There was a murmur from the jury.

"Please explain your reasoning." The prosecutor asked.

"Yes, sir," she said, "I have reviewed everything we have, which includes command-level transmissions, interviews with Stormtroopers who were present when now-Supreme Leader Hux gave the order to fire, and defectors who participated in the construction of Starkiller Base. I'm not sure Ben Organa-Solo even knew it was operational on the day the First Order obliterated the Hosnian System. I could find no evidence he was involved in the decision to build, design, target, or fire the weapon. As Finn mentioned, his role was circumscribed within the organization, a leader of paramilitary attack force focused on fulfilling the whims of the Supreme Leader, with no real control of any kind of policy or strategy."

She looked at Ben, "I'm not trying to be insulting; I know you have the capacity to command strategy and could help us with them for us in the future. But our understanding is that Snoke kept you on a tight leash and you were rarely responsible for more than your own and your Knights' actions."

Ben nodded, eyes wide.

"Does the jury have any questions?"

The Alderaanian woman raised her hand from the back row and the judge nodded to her.

"After the destruction of Alderaan, there was an effort made by the survivors to document and remember our culture. Those memories are kept in many places, including this mansion. Has a similar effort been undertaken by the Hosian survivors?"

The judge looked at Lt. Connix.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't know," she said. The woman nodded.

"A follow-up question, for Mr Organa-Solo."

The judge nodded, looking at her curiously.

"If you had known about the intended genocide, would you have stopped it?"

Ben was quiet for a long time. A gust of rain-filled wind moved across the outside of the warehouse, whistling, nearly wailing as it built-up speed before whipping up, and up, and up into the air. His voice was cracked when he answered:

"I was in the darkness for a long, long time. I kept the memories, the stories that my mother had shared with me," he raised his hand to his hair before letting it drop again. The juror was watching with close attention.

"If I knew today, that similar plans were being made, I would do everything in my power to stop them. But there is -- a mythology, among darksiders, about the Death Star, about destiny and Alderaan and fate. And I was bought into that, held within its grasp, thought of myself as the heir to Anakin Skywalker and only to him, cut off as I thought I was from all other family or people. You need to understand that idea that pain provides power isn't just a trick darksiders use in battle. There is a belief among some, my biological grandfather included, that great suffering leads to spikes in power that they can use for their own uses. So creation of pain becomes an end in itself, whether that means beating apprentices until they pass out -- or destroying whole systems."

He took a ragged breath and Rey realized how pale he was, how shaken. She clenched her hands into fists until her knuckles ached and vowed when this was over, she'd keep him from ever looking that way again.

He kept going: "When Hux gave the order, I was standing beside a viewport; I was waiting to hear the billions of lives crying out, trying to prepare myself. Because even as a darksider, I knew I would feel every one of their lives taken, feel that loss. I was grateful on that day for my mask; a mask can hide anything."

He clenched his jaw.

"But to answer your question: I don't know. Lt Connix is right that I didn't have the power to stop it as a member of the First Order, but could I have gone crazy, taken over the ship, slaughtered Hux in his sleep, tried to kill Snoke, distracted them with my public execution to give the resistance more time to prepare? Maybe. Maybe that is what a good man would have done. What I did was get into my ship and go down to Takodona to try and get the map to Luke. I was convinced that his death would signal the end of the chaotic conflict between the Republic and the First Order and by ending that, I would be saving more lives than we had just taken; that is, the Supreme Leader convinced me of that. So I went down to Takodona and found Rey and, you know what happened next."

There was silence in the court room, broken only by the rustling of papers from the jury. Finally, Jyndan Ingo stood and asked the judge if he could add something. The judge nodded.

Jydnan slid his hands up the edges of his open-fronted robes before settling them at his sides as he strode in front of the jury and stood in parade rest.

"I was a soldier on the Death Star."

The reaction was immediately and disgusted, older jurors rearing backwards and younger ones jerking in surprise.

He repeated: "I was a soldier on the Death Star. I joined, willingly, as a young man. I was old enough to know what the Empire was and to believe in the cause. I was loyal until the day I was captured and then for years after."

He shuddered, closing his eyes. 

"I survived the Death Star because I have some small connection to the Force. That allowed me to anticipate the day of the Rebellion's attack and to save my unit."

"Not everyone knows this, but there were childcare facilities on the Death Star; there are those facilities on most Imperial and now most First Order vessels; certainly any that house more than a thousand people. Ones like the  _Supremacy_ or Starkiller -- they'll have entire schools of children."

He shook his head, hard. "I am not telling you this for sympathy. These are military installations, rightful military targets. Parents who bring their children onto these ships, make their homes in these bases, they know the dangers. But when I stole a ship and shoved my team onto it and broke to hyperspace minutes before the Rebellion began to close in, I knew I was leaving those children behind to your meagre mercy."

His hands raised, gripping the edges of his robe with gnarled fingers: "I was a soldier, had chosen the Empire, not been manipulated and tortured into working for it, and I had as much control over the creation and workings of the Death Star as Ben Organa-Solo did of Starkiller; that is, none." He bowed his head.

"And I have spent the best part of my life in prison for it, for being on the wrong side." He shook his head again, grey hair flashing in the low light of the courtroom.

"My incarceration was nothing like Mr Organa-Solo's. I had books and friends and the company of the ysalamiri. I have learned the law. I have learned to think for myself. And so I can tell you, it is possible to hold an individual responsible for something he had no control over, because he followed, however unwillingly, the wrong flag. But I caution you against it. Because as you weigh the genocide of the Honsian system, I hope you will think of that those schools and daycares, and of how much culpability you would each like to have if you were ever put on trial for the deaths of the children of the Death Star or Starkiller base."

\--

When Rey, Finn, Poe and Rose entered the library, the judge, the prosecutor, and the General were all seated at the table, bent over dark-colored steaming drinks.

"Would you like some?" The General offered, hand moving towards the homey carafe in the middle of the table.

"Kriff yes," Said Poe, plopping down in the seat.

"No thank you, ma'am," said Rose, sitting beside him, eyes on the judge.

"I'll try a little," Finn murmured, hand on Rose's arm as he settled beside her.

Rey shook her head, hovering on the edge of her chair.

Drinks served, the General spoke: "I've brought us together today because I have found the final piece of evidence to answer who paid the man who tried to kill my son and succeeded in seriously wounding Rey."

The judge nodded over his drink as the prosecutor turned his glass round and round on the table, eyes sharp on the General's face.

She laid a piece of paper on the table, a bill of sale. The prior owner was "Been Beonel" and the current owner:

"Lando Calrissian."

She walked them through it -- the receipt, the arbor, everything except for Rey's meeting with him.

Rey kept silent, following the General's lead.

When she was finished, she let the room sit for a moment. Rey looked up, looked at the towers and towers of books, at a people who would drive war's devastation back with stories, to deny a genocide with their memories.

"Gentlemen, is this evidence sufficient to bring charges against General Calrissian for the attempted murder of my son?"

There was a moment of quiet and then the judge spoke: "More than, General. But what do you hope to gain?"

The General's voice was battlefield hard: "I want to prevent him from killing my son or harming others in his attempts," and she glanced at Rey.

The judge nodded: "Assassination, attempted murder, under the laws of the Republic those will merit some years in prison. But what if he outlives his sentence? Prison can sharpen a hatred, strip away mercy. And what about restitution, is there something he could give to make amends to Rey, assuming he admitted what he'd done?"

They turned to look at her.

"I don't think prison will keep him from hurting Ben and I wouldn't want to see him dead," she said slowly, thinking of the pain and the fire reflected in the man's eyes. She looked back at the books.

"Maybe there's another way."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second half of the trial -- with the verdict! I added an extra chapter at the end because I had to split what had been 14 into 14/15 but we are so close to getting there my lovelies! I so appreciate all of your wondering feedback and comments and oh, this has been such a joy. Thank you all so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just to say -- I love Lando Calrissian and I think love, particularly love soured by loss, makes people do the wacky. I'd love to know what you think of how this part of the story resolves, because, as lunalunemoon said, he's a tough one to crack.
> 
> No extra trigger warnings, but we get to the end of the tale of Anima and Amor, which involves the trials, which are appropriately gory, as per the source text. The ancient Greeks sure knew how to horrify.

Rey awoke in the atrium, the bright light of morning on Alderaan shifting across her bare legs. She was wearing some kind of short dress. She sighed and imagined herself in pants; the ysalamiri's idea of romance was so far from her own she couldn't see it with a blaster-sight. She didn't feel the panic and urgency she'd felt from Ben in the nights before, but kept her step quick and light as she ran down the corridor towards him.

She knocked on the door and he called back from the other side as he opened it -- "I was going to come find you for once,"

The torchlights illuminated him, his face smiling, and he held out his arms. She tucked herself into him, the smell of him, the warmth: it was everything she had been missing all day long. He shifted, hands trailing down her back, and she sighed.

"You're going to be mad at me," she said, voice muffled by his shirt.

"What happened?" he asked. She sighed and pulled back.

"I'll tell you as we walk to the river?"

He nodded, her arm going around his waist and his draped over her shoulder, ever-other-step bringing their bodies into glancing, warming contact.

As they walked, she started working her way up to it:

"We have proof that Lando is the one who hired the assassin."

Ben looked at her consideringly: "That sounds like a good thing; why doesn't it sound like you think it's a good thing?"

She glanced up at the mosaics as they walked under them, but Ben's gaze was intent on her face as they made their way into the atrium. She sighed, looking at the water moving in the fountain as it ran through the center of the atrium.

"I could insist he goes to prison, maybe even die there. But there are so few of us left. If there was a way to keep him from hurting you and keep him in the resistance, wouldn't that be a better way?"

He frowned, "He would need to pay -- not in pain or prison, but something else entirely -- for the hurt he caused you. Sometimes you focus so much on fixing things for everyone else that you don't take care of yourself, theesa."

She smiled, ducking her head: "I guess that's why I have you to remind me," she said, bumping her shoulder against him. They were nearly to the river now. They walked down the stony banks and sat to take-off their shoes to dangle their feet in its lazy waters.

She mused aloud: "Something to restore what he tried to take," she thought of what she knew of Lando Calrissian: "He's a rich man, but I don't need money,"

Ben huffed and Rey corrected: "I will need my own money eventually, when we win, but taking it from him would feel strange, like I was being bought-off. Something else --"

She closed her eyes thinking about the fear and the pain of the bolt in her shoulder, Ben's panicked face over hers, the rush to get outside of the ysalamiri's area of affect -- and the scent of roses from Amor's garden wafted around her, twisting and twining and fresh and home.

"There's this cottage," she said, voice soft as Ben gave her a startled look. She explained: "He bought a cottage to pay the man he hired to assassinate you. I visited it when I spoke to Lando, and, oh Ben, you would love it. Lots of room for books, and the roses --"

Ben smiled, soft and joyful at her happiness.

"Alright," he said, "So if he gives-up the cottage, that is part of the restoration of justice. But then there's the not-insignificant issue of him wanting to murder me."

Rey nodded, growing serious. "That's the part I don't think you're going to like."

Ben frowned and reached his hand out for hers. She held tight and he said, voice melding-in with the burbling of the river: "I trusted you with my life on the _Finalizer_ , on Ahch-To, on Nauticus, on Lehon, and on Deyala. I trust you now. With my life. With my heart. With everything I have."

She smiled tightly, saying: "I think Lando needs two things: someone watching him and time to heal. It's been less than a year since Han died and I think his rage will cool with time. With the right person keeping an eye on him, we can keep him from hurting you or anyone else until that time comes. It will be like house-arrest, but the resistance can still benefit from his connections and skill."

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to tell him what she'd proposed to the General and the thoroughly-shocked Poe, Finn, and Rose: "I asked Leia to give-up her stake in the Falcon -- to give it to Lando -- with the express condition that he make the Falcon his residence and share its ownership with Chewie, who will run it with him and accompany him whenever he is scheduled to be near you. We would keep him from knowing where you are, watch his financials, everything we could do from prison," she rushed-on before he could object, "I think it's the best option -- Chewie can monitor him, he can be close to his best memories of Han, and the resistance doesn't lose a General."

She ducked her head into his shoulder, hearing his even breaths and trying to match hers to his. "I know how much you love the Falcon," she murmured and he laughed --

"Theesa, you're the one who loves that piece of junk. I have good memories there, but they're not all good. This would be more of a loss for you than for me; you know you have a place there with Chewie if this whole resistance Jedi thing doesn't work out," He said with a smile and leaned back. She lay down to join him, shoulders tight.

He turned his face towards hers, breath soft pn her cheek: "I think it might be time for a new ship," he said, "One that's ours. If that piece of junk can bring Lando some peace and keep him in the fold and away from me, to the extent to which that is any kind of sacrifice for me, it is one I am happy to make."

Rey turned her head to mock-glower at him: "The Falcon is not a piece of junk," she play-growled, and he laughed again, kissing her forehead.

"Theesa, the Falcon has been a piece of junk since long before either you or I were born. Shittiness is her _aesthetic_ ," and Rey couldn't help but joining him in giggling.

They spent the rest of the dream waving their hands in the air, constructing increasingly improbably new ships they could share, designing every detail: how many cubby-holes for candy, how many berths, and where it could take them, together.

\--

When Rey awoke, it was to the last day of the trial, the day the jury would hear her testimony about Han's death.

Rey was the last to testify. She told the truth, like she told Lando she would. Others had testified before her, Chewie confirming that Han was working for the Resistance on Starkiller and was thus not a civilian; Finn confirming that he had heard Han offer to help Ben and Ben beg for help. He emphasized how long Ben had held out the lightsaber and what had seemed to cause his chaotic mind to shift at the last moment.

The prosecutor's closing arguments were procedural and Jyndan Ingo's were short, echoing across the dusk-lit courtroom as the rain streaked down the windows:

"You have heard about 5 potential war crimes. Each touched and changed people in this room. The first was a tragedy caused by Snoke, using a teenaged Ben Organa-Solo as a weapon; the second is not disputed, though complicated by the paramilitary role the Knights of Ren played in the First Order; the third is undisputed in the case of Poe Dameron and disproved in the case of the Jedi Rey; the fourth Ben Organa-Solo had no control over and thus cannot take responsibility for; and the fifth is a tragedy, but because it took place between a General of the Resistance and someone who was at the time a member of the First Order, it does not qualify as a war crime. You have asked your questions and heard the answers. Now it is up to you to decide Ben Organa-Solo's fate."

The judge told them the jury would reconvene the next morning to decide on the charges and they would do it alone. No audience, no accused. No more arguments, no more witnesses. Just the jury and time.

\--

When Rey and Finn entered the library, Poe, Rose, Chewie, and the General were already there.

So was Lando Calrissian.

He shook his finger at her: "I hear you all had me dead-to-rights but that you, argued for mercy," he said, eyes steady on hers. "That's very interesting."

Rey turned to the General, not responding, chest tight from testifying in court. "I spoke to Ben," she said, noticing how Lando flinched when she said his name, "He agreed to the plan we described. With one addition."

"The plan where me and Chewie get to run the Falcon on the condition I leave Kylo Ren alone and your Lieutenant Connix gets to rifle through my dirty laundry?" He asked and Rey couldn't tell what his tone was -- acerbic sarcasm, interested engagement, something else entirely? She wished she could sense his feelings. As much as she liked the ysalamiri as individuals, their conversation in the cottage had reminded her how much she had always relied on her connection to the Force to understand others.

Chewie turned to Lando and expressed with a loud, long, wide-ranging yell how thoroughly pissed he was at him for trying to shoot Ben. In a quieter growl, he noted that since he'd tried to shoot Ben right after he'd killed Han, it wasn't like he didn't understand the impulse. He concluded that he would be willing to take-up the bargain if Lando was.

"Thank you, Chewie," Rey said, putting a hand on his arm. He twisted it and threw around her waist, hauling her in for a hug, muttering that he appreciated the chance to spend more time with someone who remembered Han as he did.

The General spoke up: "You said there was an addition. Lando has indicated he was open to the terms we discussed last night when we confronted him, I'm not sure if we should renegotiate --"

"It's symbolic restitution for his attack on me," Rey said. She took a deep breath, imagining Ben's arm around her shoulders as Chewie's stayed around her waist. "This is my first time seeking justice for anything done to me, so I didn't think of it last night."

The room grew silent, the General sitting up a little straighter in her chair, eyes sharp. Not everyone in this room knew her history, but her friends did, and they knew how hard this was for her.

"Ben reminded me that I was hurt, that I could have died because of your hatred and grief, General Calrissian. The additional restitution isn't for Ben or the Resistance or to help you deal with your grief. It is for me, to give me back some of what your assassin nearly took from me forever." She looked him dead in the eye and said: "I would accept the deed to the cottage as full restitution."

He looked at her for a long moment, tilting his head as he thought -- or he might have already have made the decision in a split-second and was playing for dramatics. A man with a travel-rack of capes was capable of a wide range of dramatics, Rey expected.

Finally he laid his hands down on the table and said: "I accept your terms."

He raised his hand for her to shake. She looked in his eyes and even without the Force to give her hints, she didn't truly believe he wouldn't try to kill Ben again. But she did trust Chewie to stop him. And that was the best she could do today. _Justice rarely feels fair._

Rey glanced at the books around them and went to take his hand, sliding her fingers past his palm and gripping his wrist instead. She shook twice and let go, catching the General's approving look as the gesture.

The General began to work through the legal details. With an apologetic nod to her friends, a few minutes later Rey fled to her room.

\--

This dream was quiet. Rey awoke in the courtyard and walked to the room where Ben was sleeping, soundly this time. She sat for long minutes, brushing her fingers through his hair, giving it some semblance of order, tucking it back into the style he'd gone to bed in. She knew he was awake when he caught her hand in his, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. She leaned over, pressing her ear to his heart.

_Alive and here, alive and here, alive and here._

\--

Rey arrived at Ben's cell the next morning with breakfast stuffed in her pockets -- a dozen napkin-wrapped tarts, a cup of berries, and a big glass of some kind of purple juice.

Under her other arm, she carried his copy of _Tales as Old as Time._

He was sitting and reading on his bed when she arrived. The ysalamir had somehow connived its way into his cell and was flopped over his knees, rumbling in the reptile near-equivalent of a purr as his hand drifted across its spine-ridges. He looked up at Rey, eyes wide, and a crooked smile lifted across his face.

"Last meal?"

"That's not funny." Rey said.

He nodded, nudging the giant lizard off his knees and stepping towards her to take the juice.

Once his hands were full, Rey wiggled a tart at him, handing one over before holding out another and wiggling it too. She kept going until his arms were full of tottering tarts and he was laughing at her seemingly-never-ending supply of pocketed pastries. She sat in front of the bars with him facing her and they began eating, Rey snagging the juice from him for a gulp when he wasn't looking. Once they were full, she dusted her hands off and held up the book.

"I think it's time to finish the story." She said. His face grew somber. 

He nodded.

"Alright." He said, opened the book and turning so his back was against the wall. After a bit of figuring, she leaned her shoulder against the bars so she could look-on as he read -- and so she could snag his hand in hers. Once she was settled, Ben began to read:

> Anima knew that her world had ended when she awoke in the ruins of the villa. The invisible servants had fled and her husband was gone. All she had left were her knife and her sister's cursed candle, which she ground beneath her foot and into the shattered mosaic tiles scattered around her as soon as she could find the strength to stand.
> 
> Anima wandered for a long time. She walked down roads and dells and up into the mountains and back down again. She ate the berries in the forest she had learned were sweet on her long walks with her husband; she drank water from the sweet, clear streams and never felt sated.
> 
> Weeks into her wandering, high on the ridges of a greystone mountain too bare to support even a tree of life, just as the sun was setting, she found a beautiful harvest temple left to disarray. Who would build a temple of temple of the harvest in a land where nothing grew, she had no idea, but she had lived her whole life to the rhythms of growing things and it hurt something inside of her to see the alters laid asunder and the sacrifices heaped upon the ground.
> 
> It was night when she arrived and she lay down on the steps of the temple to sleep, sure she would hear anyone approaching long before he came upon her and secure with her knife in her grasp. She awoke and the temple was clouded, covered in mists; but still Anima got to work, heaving the great stones of the alter back onto their pedestals and laying out the wreaths the way her father had taught her. When the midday came, she hiked down the mountain to where she knew a patch of good, filling berries grew.
> 
> When she returned, there was a woman standing on the steps of the temple, her shoulders broad and tanned with work, her belly round with good food, and her thighs thick enough to let her carry bales of hay or struggling calfs long distances. The woman turned and Anima fell to the ground for she recognized the goddess of the harvest from the mosaics her husband had laid out for her.
> 
> The goddess knelt beside her and Anima pressed her face to the dirt.
> 
> The goddess whispered: "All is not lost, my daughter. Tomorrow my sister will come. She will give you trials; they will be cruel, for beauty like power is often cruel. But your husband yet lives and while he lives, he loves you. Endure and you will be free."
> 
> She nodded and in a gust of wind bearing the scent of the wheat harvest, the woman was gone.
> 
> She slept ill that night, fearful of the cruel trials that awaited her. She awoke to find another woman on the steps: pale, a skin that had never seen work; slender, a body that had no need to bear calfs or children; red lipped, like she had just finished consuming a pomegranate or a heart; fair hair unbound and graceful, a woman whose life did not require twisting vines or snagging thorns.
> 
> "You have searched a long, long time," She said and awaited Anima's response.
> 
> She bowed low, as low as she could get herself to the ground: "I have, my Lady,"
> 
> "Do you believe you are worthy of my son, who you injured with your little candle and your pitiful mistrust?" She asked, voice an asp's hiss.
> 
> "No, my Lady." Anima could sense a feeling of satisfaction radiating from the goddess, until she added in a near-whisper: "But I would like to be."
> 
> She glanced up to find the goddess glowering.
> 
> She pointed into the temple, hand shaking with rage. "You will sort out all of these seeds by sunrise, or I will beat you to a pulp and leave your body on your husband's bed." And she wrapped herself up in her scarves until she disappeared.
> 
> Anima entered the temple to find a heap of a thousand, a million-million seeds: chickpeas and lentils and poppyseed and barley and beans and her old friend, wheat. She began to sob and yet her hands began to sort sort, trying to find a way to do this work. Her tears watered the seeds as she toiled for long hours, and by midday she only had a small handful of each seed and the massive pile seemed no lower.
> 
> She lowered her head to the floor and whispered: "My husband, I tried. I will keep trying, until I die at your mother's hands. My love, I am sorry."
> 
> And she felt something moving across her feet, something soft, almost softer than the wind, than the air around her. She looked down and found the floor roiling with ants no bigger than two poppyseeds stuck together. They swarmed over the heap, taking two seeds each to the piles she had begun. In wave after wave they came, roiling and boiling and coiling around her.
> 
> She tried to help but only seemed to confuse their process, so she stepped slowly and carefully out of the temple and went down the mountain to heap her skirts full of berries and her waterskin full of spring flow. She carried it back up the mountain and on the temple steps she laid it out. Grateful ants tricked out of the temple, taking their rest and a bite to eat, before heading back in to work. They worked all night.
> 
> When the goddess unwrapped herself from mists in the temple and Anima knelt before her, there were six hip-high towers of seeds surrounding them. She huffed a sigh of disappointment and leaned down, dragging Anima up by the hair and forcing her to down the template steps, around to the backside of the temple. She held out a hand and pointed across a wide, swift river Anima could have sworn was not there the morning before.
> 
> "Across that river you will find gold-fleeced nerfs. You will get me a tuft of fleece from each of them before dawn, or I will tear off your skin, tan it, and present it to your husband as a table-covering."
> 
> She wrapped herself back into the mists and Anima sank to the ground, sobbing in exhaustion and fear. She crawled towards the river, whispering, "I cannot swim, my love, I have failed you again."
> 
> She had reached the edge of the water, thinking to drown herself and save her husband the pain of seeing her skin without her in it, when she heard a rustling in the reeds. She had not grown-up next to great rivers, but had seen great beasts depicted in the iron door of her husband's room and she felt fear drive through her. But the rustling became words, and she heard:
> 
> "The fleece is not your mother-in-law's to take, for it is her brother the Sun's and he has bred them to defend themselves with the teeth of rathtars; but after dark, when he is not watching, you may take what you need from the briars that fence his nerfs."
> 
> "Thank you, but it will be in vain, for I cannot swim."
> 
> And the reeds rustled and she almost thought it sounded like laughter.
> 
> "We will weave ourselves into a boat for your then." And then the voice of the reeds changed, became deeper and richer, reminding her of a night spent huddled in the bow of a tree, avoiding looking up into the face of the one she loved: "Do not despair, my love," he said through the reeds.
> 
> And so she sat on the edge of the river and watched the nerfs as bright as her knife had been the night she had forged it, nerfs that shone. She watched them hunt and kill with wicked teeth that she had never seen on any nerfs in her hometown market. And she watched as the reeds pulled themselves together into the shape of a boat. Midday, she hiked halfway down the mountain and found the first large tree she could see. She climbed-up it and broke off a branch as thick as her arm and her full height. She spent the remaining misty hours of the day smoothing it into a draw-pole to allow her to control the self-made boat.
> 
> Just as the reeds had promised, when she crossed the river, the ravenous nerfs were asleep and she could step easily between each of them, plucking stray tufts of fur from all of the briars around them and tucking them into her tunic, close to her skin, where they lit her up like a fire but produced no heat.
> 
> She pulled herself back across the river and then dragged herself to the temple steps, where she slept deeply, barely feeling the caress of the winds tucking themselves around her and keeping the chill away from her exposed skin.
> 
> The next morning she was awoken by a kick to the chest and she yanked the hanks of wool she had collected from inside of her tunic before the beating could get started in earnest. She held them up with her eyes downcast. She felt the fibers ripped away and she lay, prostrate before the goddess. She heard something clink to the ground in front of her but dared not look up.
> 
> "You will fill this flask from the spring high on that cliff," and she pointed to a cliff overlooking the temple that Anima was sure had not been there the day before.
> 
> "It feeds the river that all people must cross to get to the sweet relief of death. If this flask is not full by dawn tomorrow, I will drown everyone you have ever loved, my son excluded of course, and suffocate you with their corpses."
> 
> Once the goddess had wrapped herself back up into the mists, Anima stood, tucking the flask into her tunic, and began to walk. The cliff face seemed to move before her eyes. Aterrible roar split the morning quiet -- and with a start, she realized the entire cliff face was a colander of tunnels and each held a rancor nest. She trembled, but she could see the spring welling black down the mountainside, so she gritted her teeth and she began to climb, spotting each handhold like she plotted her way up the trunk of a tree.
> 
> The roaring was getting louder and louder; she looked high above her, spotting each handhold and finding no path past them. But she kept going, choosing holds that made her fingertips ache and her shoulders burn. But no sooner had she found another track up the mountain but she felt the horrible snuffling sound of one of the beasts, stretching its long neck over the edge of a ledge she hadn't seen to try to snag a bite of her. She slid back, barely keeping her hold on the mountain's cliff, breathing the dusty mountain air. She tried, for hours, path after path after path, but she could find no way past the rancors.
> 
> Finally, she climbed back down, pressing her forehead to the gravel of the cliff below and whispering: "My life, you sent me ants and spoke to me through reeds. I can't do this alone." 
> 
> She felt a rush of great wings and there was a giant Minka-bird, the messenger of the leader of the gods.
> 
> She bowed low and spoke quickly, not sure of the bird's attention-span: "The goddess of love has asked for a flask full of the water that flows from the spring above; but the rancors are too fierce, I cannot get past them."
> 
> It nodded, its intelligent eyes fixed on hers. She reached into her tunic and pulled-out the flask, laying it on the ground. The bird stepped forward and with a great bow of its head, clenched it in its terrible claws and leapt into the air.
> 
> Anima watched as it dodged the claws and jaws of the rancors and clung to the side of the cliff, powerful wings barely enough to keep it balanced as the flask filled from the black flowing water.
> 
> Finally, it flew back to her. She bowed deep, murmuring her gratitude as it took off.
> 
> She tucked herself into the corner of the temple as the last light faded, the flask safe in her tunic, and whispered: "My love, your mother said you were injured. I am so, so sorry for that. I should have trusted you. I do now. With my life. With my heart. With everything I have."
> 
> This time, she was awake enough to feel the touch of her husband through the wind as he wrapped himself around her. Her eyes stayed closed and she had the first good sleep in weeks pull her under.
> 
> She awoke with to a slap across the face, fumbling the flask out and holding it up to the goddess, eyes downcast.
> 
> She ripped it from her hands, tucking it into her swirling robes and squatted down, fury making her face twist:
> 
> "You are giving me wrinkles. You will go into the underworld and get from the queen who rules there her beauty ointment by dawn or --" And Anima winced, thinking of what terrible threat the goddess would lay on her now. Her voice was low and venomous when she said: "Or I will send you back to your little village and make you the wife of whatever brute your father had picked out for you before my son ever took pity on your homely face."
> 
> Anima pressed her face to the floor, terror rippling across her shoulders. She had no idea where to find the entrance to the underworld, short of dying, and she needed to get back, so she could apologize to her husband for breaking his trust. 
> 
> Not knowing what else to do, as soon as she heard the goddess depart, she stood and began walking. She walked for long hours, through woods and across ridges.
> 
> She found nothing.
> 
> She was growing weary, but still she walked, finding herself climbing high and higher, up a series of ridges until she stood on a cliff that overlooked the whole of the valley. There she could see the villa where for a short time she had been so happy; and there, her town, so far from her now, full of people who had often only cared for the power of her beauty and what it could do for them. From here, she could see every barn she'd slept in, every market she'd begged in to survive since her husband had left. She dangled her legs off the edge of the cliff, wondering if she jumped if the Minka-bird would catch her then too -- when she heard a rumbling, groaning all around her. She yanked her feet back, pressing herself to a bolder, when the rumbling of the cliff became words:
> 
> "Over the edge of this cliff is a ledge. The ledge leads to a door which will take you to the staircase to the underworld. On the way, you will see sights to distract you, people you would never expect to meet inside a mountain: a man beating his mule, a dead man swimming, a woman weaving. You must ignore them and when you reach the queen of the dead, you must be kind and you must be humble. Only then will you be able to return."
> 
> Anima nodded and turned to the cliff's edge. It was as tall and terrible as it had looked the minute before. She lowered herself over it with arms shaking from the previous day's trial, easing her feet down and feeling no solid hold, and kept lowering herself until she doubted she could pull herself back up again. Hanging by her fingertips she whispered, "My love, I will see you soon," and let go --
> 
> And landed. There was a ledge, just as the boulders had told her, and there, a black iron door, carved with scenes from myths she was beginning to believe were more true than she has thought.
> 
> She pushed her shoulder against it and it creaked open. Inside were steps, more than she had ever seen, all heading down.
> 
> Anima descended.
> 
> There were platforms every few hundred steps. She paused to catch her breath and as the stones had warned her, she heard the screams of the terrified pack animal before she could see it; she ran to the stairs, heart twisting inside of her, knowing she could have stopped its pain. She heard the rustling of river, somehow streaming cold and dark within the mountain, dripping lazily on the steps below. She saw a dead man with the face of her father struggling and struggling to swim within it; she kept going, cheeks wet as she knew she could not save him, for she still could not swim.
> 
> She was breathing hard on a platform when she felt the hand of an old woman grip her shoulder with a claw-like hand.
> 
> "Do you think he could still love you, after what you did?" The old woman asked in a voice as quavering as a goat's, "Could you possibly deserve his love?" 
> 
> Anima stood and waited until she was most of the way down the steps before she retorted: "He loves me still. He sent me humble workers and unexpected helpers and a proud savior when I needed him most. There is nothing I can do to deserve his love. It's taken me this long to realize that his goodness does not depend on my behavior. Love is not a transaction, where I have to keep earning my keep. He loves me because he loves me."
> 
> She repeated that to herself with each step: _he loves me still, he loves me still, he loves me still_.
> 
> She found herself at the foot of the great throne, a great queen crowned and arrayed above her. She dropped to her knees and said what was in her heart:
> 
> "I was instructed to come here," she said, "To beg for a piece of your beauty for the goddess of love."
> 
> "And why did you come? A mortal with less of a chance of getting out of here than surviving a rancor pit? You forfeit your life when you entered this cave."
> 
> "I have something I need to say to someone I love," she said simply.
> 
> The goddess looked her over, considering, before she reached down beside her massive throne and pulled out a little box.
> 
> "My sister is mistaken in thinking I have some ointment to protect my beauty. But this will serve her purposes. Come, child, and take it from my hand."
> 
> And so Anima climbed-up and took the intricately-carved box from the queen of death's hands.
> 
> "Thank you," she said and hurried back to the stairs she'd taken down. On the way up, she felt the winds surround her, helping her with every step, keeping her from having to rest, lifting her far and fast so that she reached the cliff's ledge before the first light of morning swept across the mountain peak. She could no more climb back over the ledge with the box in her arms than she could before she had gotten it, so she sat with her back to the mountain.
> 
> But the goddess did not come.
> 
> She waited until the sun was set and a killing chill started to creep into her bones from the mountain's stormy gusts before calling out: "My love, I have what was asked for,"
> 
> And then a terrible fear came over her -- perhaps she had asked for the wrong thing. Perhaps she had been tricked and would be left here for the Minka birds.
> 
> She set the box in her lap and began to slip the lid off, when she suddenly could not keep her eyes open. On the narrow ledge, she fell asleep, for all that was in the box was unmaking sleep, because the only way to ensure everyone you see believes you are beautiful is to see no one ever again.
> 
> But her husband had that night finished his healing and had been with her for every one of those steps. Seeing her fall to sleep's undertow, he swept her up in his arms and whisked her back down the mountain to the temple steps where he laid her down with her head on his lap, pulling the forever sleep from her eyes and slipping it back into the box for his mother. He balanced the box on his knee, so when his mother appeared he could thrust it at her, eyes like flint.
> 
> "She has finished your impossible tasks, you jealous monster. Now get away from her -- and from me."
> 
> His mother simpered and whined but in the end, wrapped herself up and disappeared, clutching the box greedily in her hands. He waited long enough to be sure she had knocked herself out before slipping himself and Anima into the realm of the gods. With his love still sleeping in his private chambers, on the bed where he'd been healing, he found the leader of the gods.
> 
> "Is this the one you've been chasing after?" He said, his voice wry.
> 
> "I think it's been she who's been chasing me, but yes."
> 
> "Mutual pursuit, and a bit of pining, it's as good a foundation as any," he said, sitting beside him with a sigh.
> 
> "Are you sure of how you feel?"
> 
> "I am," Amor said simply, "She has my heart."
> 
> The older god slapped his knees and reached inside his robes, pulling out a round purple bottle.
> 
> "When she wakes, have her drink this. It will make her like us, so she can gaze upon you without being harmed and will have the same amount of power as you do." He stood and said, "I'll also remind your mother to mind her own business for a few millennia." Amor nodded his thanks.
> 
> When Anima awoke, she was alone in the most beautiful room she had ever seen. Every surface was covered in mosaics, telling the stories of the sorting of the seeds, the plucking of the wool, the rancor-guarded spring, and the misleading beauty box, alongside the stories she had so loved in her home temple. Beside her were her knife and a bottle, both resting on a note. It read: "My love, drink this and we will be together always. You have changed everything for me. Equals in life, in love, in our future. - Amor"
> 
> She did.
> 
> And they were.
> 
> The End.

It had taken Ben long hours to read her the story, Rey grimacing and covering her mouth in the right parts, Ben having to turn the pages one-handed the whole time as Rey would not relinquish her hold on him.

He sighed in satisfaction, closing the book and looking over at Rey.

"What do you think?" He asked, voice low out of courtesy for the guard catching-up on her nap around the corner.

Rey closed her eyes, thinking of the mosaics, the temple, the cruel games the gods played.

"I think Anima was right -- Amor's love wasn't conditional. She didn't need to earn it with trials, since he'd loved her from the first time he saw her light. And I think Amor was wrong to let his mother mistreat her. No matter their relationship, he had a responsibility to protect someone he loved."

Ben nodded: "There's a lot of early-culture Alderaanian's ethics about trials and power and submission to the gods that are hard to understand now. But that images in the story -- the reeds making themselves into a boat, the Minka-birds soaring between the snatching claws of the rancors: those are the ones that stick with me."

Rey nodded and looked at her chromo. She could sense it was getting towards dinner time. She wondered what the jury had decided, if they had decided anything yet.

She tipped her head back, letting it thump against the stone wall.

She whispered, only half-pretending: "It's not to late to break out of here. I've got my lightsaber; no one would be able to stop us. Lando hasn't taken residence up in the Falcon yet; we could be breaking to black in 15 minutes,"

Ben closed his eyes, fingers tightening on hers through the bars -- and then relaxing.

"I agreed to the trial. That means abiding by their ruling." He turned his head to look at her. "But however it goes, theesa, you have changed everything for me. Kowing you has been the high-point of my life."

Rey shook her head, biting her lips: "If this goes the way I want, these weeks will be the low point --after the decision, our lives can start together. That's what I'm aiming for, what I've _been_ aiming for."

He nodded, leaning his head back and closing his eyes again. "I know, theesa. Me too. Me too."

\--

Lights-out came and went without any news from the jury. Rey stayed until the last possible moment and then rushed to her bedroom, bumping into Poe and Finn on the way. Both men wrapped her up in great big hugs and then let her go, faces worried as she hurried down the corridor.

She awoke beside Ben in the great bed and rolled over onto him, face buried in his neck, hands tight under his shoulders. He held her with the same intensity, breathing her in. The ysalamiri had selected something like training clothing for both of them, tight and flexible. She could feel the movement of his chest under her, when she opened her mouth to breathe, she could taste his skin. At the tentative swipe of her tongue, he arched up into her, hands stilling on her back before moving to her ribs -- and stopping.

"Hours, theesa," he gasped as he gently moved her away. "Just hours left."

She nodded, biting her tongue until she could think in a language other than _more, and here, and alive and please._

"The river is cold, right? Nice and cold?" She asked,

He nodded, a little more frantically than he'd probably intended.

"Race you to the nice, cold river?" She asked, and he was up and moving faster than she could follow.

She had not thought her plan through, because as soon as they reached the river, Ben began removing his already too-tight clothing and Rey -- she sat down.

 _Hours_ , she promised herself, _hours_ ; she refused to think the trial would go any other way. She couldn't bear it. And then she closed her eyes as he waded into the clear blue water before pulling off her top and joining him for a brisk swim.

\--

It was storming outside by dawn and the jury waited until mid-morning to announce they were ready to share their findings. Rey had woken-up to a key in a silver envelope marked _cottage_  slipped under her door; she slipped it into her pocket. The she had gone straight to Ben's cell without eating. She didn't have any stories for Ben to read. Finn, Poe, and Rose soon joined her and took turns telling dark jokes and patting his guardian ysalamir to pass the time.

One of the guards approached them: "The jury's in. Ready to go, Mr Organa-Solo?" She asked, cuffs stretched between her hands. Rey's mouth went dry and her stomach rolled at the sight of them.

He nodded and stepped back, allowing the guard into the cell, holding his hands out for her to cuff him. The ysalamir came in with her and stayed close to his ankles, watchful gaze on the guard's every move. Rey kept her eyes on Ben's, taking up a position behind his back, her hand in his. Rose, Finn, and Poe flanked them, daring the guard to comment. And so they went to the warehouse in the same formation as when they'd marched down the Falcon's ramp 3 weeks ago.

The courtroom was as hushed as the rain against the windows, fogged-up by the standing-room-only crowd. Rey noted Lando's absence. She'd heard from Poe that he was confined to the Falcon by their agreement with C-3PO on watch. It looked like everyone else was here: her sparring partner, the General and Chewie in the back and Jyndan and the prosecutor in the front of the room.

She stood beside Ben as the jury filed in and the judge took his seat. She and Ben remained standing as the rest of the room sat.

The judge looked over the audience: "This has been a difficult trial, for the victims and those accused of harming them, for the audience -- but especially for the jury, who lived with witnessing dozens of acts of horrific violence and were charged with maintaining their compassion in spite of them. I attended their deliberations and was proud to observe as they struggled and found the balance that justice -- that our laws and way of life -- demands. Now, the lead member of the jury will read their findings and declare the sentence."

The large man in the front row stood, and the data pad was still in his hands. No tremor moved through him. Rey hoped that was a good sign.

"On the war crime charge of perpetuating the massacre on Yavin IV, we find Ben Organa-Solo not guilty."

There was a sigh, something that sounded like relief to Rey as it swept through the audience.

"On the war crime charge of ordering the massacre of Tuanul, we find Ben Organa-Solo guilty." Ben sagged but immediately straightened his spine. Rey kept her fingers tight around his.

"On the war crime charge of conducting torture on Poe Dameron, we find Ben Organa-Solo guilty. On the charge of torturing the Jedi Rey, we find the accused not guilty."

The audience was quiet, but there was a hum growing. The next one was the charge that would carry the heaviest weight, the carried the highest cost.

"On the war crime charge of participating in the destruction of the Hosnian system, we find Ben Organa-Solo not guilty."

Another louder sound, like a rumble of approval. Rey kept her eyes locked on the lead juror.

"On the war crime charge of the murder of Han Solo, we find Ben Organa-Solo not guilty."

There was something like a sob from that back of the room; Rey was sure it was the General's. But they weren't done yet.

"And the sentence?" the judge prompted.

The lead member of the jury glanced down at his datapad and then looked straight at Ben.

"The jury was swayed by Mr Organa-Solo's plea for mercy for his own tormentors and by the history of peaceful resolution on Deyala. We believe that the best justice we could provide for the villagers at Tuanul and for the Jedi Rey is to sentence Mr Organa-Solo to fight against the First Order, alongside the Resistance, until the Republic is restored and justice is available to every being."

Ben turned and collapsed against her, hair in her face, his hands still bound, body shaking as she held him up, gripped him harder than she'd ever held anyone in her entire life. Poe and Finn and Rose swarmed down the aisle, whopping and slapping Ben on the back as the judge smacked his gavel for order. Jyndan gestured for the guard to unlock Ben's chains and when she did, Jyndan grabbed his hand to shake it. Then Ben turned to Rey and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

"We did it, theesa. We did it."

"You're free," she said.

He nodded against her neck, big arms wrapped around her for the whole of the resistance to see.

The judge was trying to get order back, slamming his gavel over and over, but there were people whirling around them, shock wearing off and smiles coming brighter. Rey felt a nudge at her elbow and it was the General.

"Ben -- " She started and he turned, eyes wide, and swept her up in a massive hug. Rey could see how his mother's eyes drifted shut, her arms going around his back as she bent her head and wept into his shoulder, slight shoulders shaking, hands gripping his tunic so tight Rey was afraid she was going to rip it.

It took a good quarter of an hour for the judge to regain control of the courtroom, but regain it he did, out of breath and burbling with the effort of shouting down the chattering crowd.

"There are a number of documents that need to be prepared and that the formerly accused must sign. If I may ask you all to leave my courtroom immediately, you may have Mr Organa-Solo back again in half an hour."

Rey watched as the courtroom emptied, back pressed against Ben's chest, when she felt his lips brush over her ear:

"Meet me at the cottage? Jyndan will tell me how to get there."

And she felt a thrill.

There was some tiny, terrified part of her that had feared he would leave now, that being free would lift him away from her. He had so many more people who loved him now, who cared for him, cheered for him; what did he need her for? But when she turned back, the look in his eyes swept that all away.

"Ok," she said, gripping his hands and then hurrying out of the courtroom. She took side passages so she could avoid her friends, to get to the cottage that much faster. There would be time for group celebrations later, but these next hours: they were hers and Ben alone.

They'd earned that.

She ran to the gate, cloak over her head to avoid getting soaked, hollering up to the guards: "He's free! Ben's free!" and their bemused smiles followed her out and into the waiting arms of the Force. She felt herself picking-up her feet, letting her connection with the Force help her nearly fly to the cottage, sweet, fresh rain running across her face.

The rainfed smell of the roses hit her and lightened her steps, toes barely touching the riverstone walkway. She reached the red door with the heart-shaped window and dug into her pocket for the key; it fit the lock perfectly.

She shucked her boots at the door; the thick carpets were plush between her toes. She walked through the kitchen, checking the pantry and finding it well-stocked with preserved goods; no veg-meat or insta-bread here. She found the fireplace stacked with dry wood and tinder. She knelt and closed her eyes, bringing-forth the feeling she'd used so often in the cave of Ahch-To. She felt the heat of the fire bloom across her cheeks and looked into it for a moment, remembering.

Then she stood and continued her survey of the house, fingers tapping on her thigh, carefully keeping herself from having any expectations of what would happen the minute Ben Solo walked through that door. He might want to talk; he might want to sleep; he might want to read.

As the heat from the fire radiated through the house, she kept exploring. Through the living room was the door to a bedroom with a four-poster bed heaped with quilts and side-tables on either side, all hand-carved from dark wood and an armoire against the far wall. There was something sitting on top of one of the side-tables -- black box with a note pinned to the top, written in Poe's broad hand:

_Just in case_

Rey opened it and found several bottles of lube. She blushed and didn't know whether she wanted to tackle the pilot or thank him. She tucked it inside the drawer in any case.

The bedroom led to a bathroom with a tub big enough for Ben to lie down in, done in shimmering teal tile the same color as the tile at the main house in Lehon.

On the other side of the living room was a guestroom and a guest bath with a more traditional 'fresher. The last room in the house a small library with the biggest window of any room framing an unruly and altogether perfect backyard. There was a desk, a comfortable chair, calligraphy tools, and a half-dozen built-in bookcases, ready to be filled. There was a note on the table in a much more formal script, lying beside the calligraphy set:

_For my dear son. Welcome home._

Rey stepped back, laying the note down carefully so that Ben could find it just as it had been left.

As she walked back towards the kitchen, she passed back again through the livingroom where she'd sat with Lando Calrissian. On the empty bookshelf beside the fireplace, something glimmered in the flames.

She knelt, tile floor warming under the carpets already, and fitted her hands around a little bowl. It was a deep, undertow blue, the glaze matte, rough enough she could grip it and smooth enough she would want to. But it wasn't the rippling blue caught the firelight -- it was the veins of gold, winding, flying across its surface, filling-in and holding-together where the bowl had once broke; been broken. In the bottom was a slip of soft white paper, on which was written:

_Kintsugi._

_\- Jyndan Ingo_

Rey sucked in a breath, bracing her head against the nearly-empty bookcase and trying to breathe. She set the bowl back down with hands as gentle as she could make them, and stood to go back to the kitchen, stomach reminding her of how little she'd been able to eat that morning. Beside a fruit bowl on the counter she had at first thought was decorative, she saw a note signed by Rose and Finn:

_For your sweet tooth(s)_

Nestled among the berries was a bag of candy. She had just popped a candy in her mouth when she heard footfalls on the doorstep. She swallowed and ran to the door, catching a glimpse through the heart-shaped window. Ben's hair was wild as the rain formed a solid curtain behind him, and for a moment it looked like he was floating in a blue sea water, and then the illusion snapped as he stripped his his borrowed-cloak off his broad shoulders.

She flung the door open and he met her eyes, and she found she couldn't breathe, body flashing hot, hands beginning to shake.

"I'm a free man," he said, voice low, as he stepped over the lintel. She took a step back, drawing him with her into the house.

"I am beholden to no one," he continued, backing her up until her shoulders hit the wall, eyes intent on hers.

"I have choices of my own. And Rey, I choose you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliff hanger but I promise I'm good for it! Comments are life, please let me know what you think -- and any requests for the next chapter?


End file.
